OF THE
UNIVERSITY '
OF
ON
a t n v a I jStliirt.r*
FOE PEACTICAL USE IN EVEEY
HOUSEHOLD,
FOB READERS OF ALL CLASSES
BY A, BERNSTEIN.
CONTENTS:
THE WEIGHT OF THE EARTH — VELOCITY— NUTRITION — LIGHT
AND DISTANCE — THE WONDERS OF ASTRONOMY — METEOR-
OLOGY—THE FOOD PROPER FOR MAN.
fork:
CHE. SCHMIDT, PUBLISHER, 39 CENTRE STREET.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
OHR. SCHMIDT,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern
District of New York.
BERNSTEIN'S
TREATISE
NATURAL SCIENCE.
"In primis, hominis est propria VERI inquisitio atque investigatio.
"Itaque cum sumus negotiis necessariis, curisque vacui, turn avemus
" aliquid videre, audire, ac dicere, cognitionemque rerum, aut occul-
"tarum aut admirabilium, ad ben& beatdque vivendum necessariam
"ducimus ; — ex quo intelligitur, quod VEBUM, simplex, sincerumqe sit,
" id esse naturae hominis aptissimum. Huic veri videndi cupiditati
"adjuncta est appetitio qusedam principatus, ut nemini parere ani-
"musbenea natura informatus velit, nisi prsecipienti, aut docenti,
" aut utilitatis causa juste et legitimk imperanti : ex quo animi magni-
tude existit, et humanarum rerum contemtio."
CICERO, DE OFFICIIS, Lib. 1. § 13.
Before all other things, man is distinguished by his pursuit and
investigation of TBTJTH. And hence, when free from needful business
and cares, we delight to see, to hear, and to communicate, and
consider a knowledge of many admirable and abstruse things neces-
sary to the good conduct and happiness of our lives : whence it is
clear that whatsoever is TBUE, simple, and direct, the same is most
congenial to our nature as men. Closely allied with this earnest
longing to see and know the truth, is a kind of dignified and princely
sentiment which forbids a mind, naturally well constituted, to submit
its faculties to any but those who announce it in precept or in doc-
trine, or to yield obedience to any orders but such as are at once
just, lawful, and founded on utility. From this source spring great-
ness of mind and contempt of worldly advantages and trouble^
CONTENTS.
PART I.
THE WEIGHT OF THE EAETH.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. How many pounds the whole earth weighs 3
II. The attempt to weigh the earth 5
III. Description of the experiment to weigh the earth 8
PART II,
VELOCITY.
I. Velocities of the forces of nature 13
II. How can the velocity of the electric current be ascer-
tained 15
PART III.
NUTEITION.
I. Nothing but milk 21
II. Man the transformed food :
III. What strange food we eat fe;:
IV. How nature prepares our food 29
V. "What becomes of the mother's milk after it has entered
the body of the child 32
VI. How the blood becomes the vital part of the body 35
VH. The circulation of matter 38
VIII. Food 41
IX. About nutrition . . 44
CONTENTS.
PART IV.
LIGHT AND DISTANCE.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. Something about illumination 49
II. The illumination of the planets by the sun 52
PART V.
THE WONDEBS OF ASTBONOMY.
I. A wonderful discovery 57
II. The main support of Leverrier's discovery 60
m. The great discovery 63
PART VI.
METEOROLOGY.
I. Something about the weather 69
II. Of the weather in summer and winter 73
III. The currents of air and the weather 75
IV. The firm rules of meteorology 78
V. Air and water in their relations to weather 81
VI. Fog, clouds, rain, and snow 84
VII. How heat in the air becomes latent, and how it gets free
again ._._._._. 87
VEIL Latent heat produces cold, free heat produces warmth. . 90
IX. Kules about the weather, and disturbance? of the same . . 93
X. The changeableness of the weather with regard to our
geographical position 96
XI. About the difficulty and possibility of determining the
weather , 98
XII. The false-weather prophets 101
Xin. Has the moon influence upon the weather? 103
CONTEXTS. IX
PART VII.
OUB ARTICLES OF FOOD.
CHAPTER. PAGE-
I. The rapid renewal of the blood is an advantage 109
II. Digestion 112
III. Coffee 114
IV. Coffee as a medicine - 117
V. Usefulness and hurtfulness of coffee 119
VI. Breakfast 121
VII. Liquor 125
VIII. Injuriousness of drinking liquor 131
IX. The poor and the liquor 134
X. The consequences of intemperance, and its prevention. . 137
XI. Dinner 140
XII. Necessity for variety in food 143
XII. Broth 146
XIV. What is best to be put into soup 149
XV. Leguminous vegetables 152
XVI. Meat and vegetables 155
XVII. The nap after dinner 158
XVIII. Water and beer 161
XIX. The supper «... 164
PART I.
THE WEIGHT OF THE EARTH.
CHAPTEE I.
HOW MANY POUNDS THE WHOLE EARTH WEIQ-HS.
NATURAL philosophers have considered and investigated
subjects that often appear to the unscientific man beyond
the reach of human intelligence. Among these subjects
may be reckoned the question, " How many pounds does
the whole earth weigh ?"
One would, indeed, believe that this is easy to answer.
A person might assign almost any weight, and be perfectly
certain that nobody would run after a scale, in order to
examine, whether or not an ounce were wanting. Yet this
question is by no means a joke, and the answer to it is by
no means a guess ; on the contrary, both are real scientific
results. The question in itself is as important a one, as
the answer, which we are able to give, is a correct one.
Knowing the size of our globe, one would think that
there was no difficulty in determining its weight. To do
this, it would be necessary only to make a little ball of
earth that can be accurately weighed ; then we could easily
calculate how many times the earth is larger than this
little ball; and by so doing, we might tell, at one's finger-
ends, that — if we suppose the little earth-ball to weigh a
hundred-weight — the whole globe, being so many times
larger, must weigh so many hundred-weights.
Such a proceeding, however, would be very likely to mis-
lead us. For all depends on the substance the little ball
is made of. If made of loose earth, it will weigh little; if
stones are taken with it, it will weigh more ; while, if metals
(3)
4 THE WEIGHT OF THE EARTH.
were put in, it would, according to the kind of metal you
take, weigh still more.
If, then, we wish to determine the weight of our globe by
the weight of that little ball, it is first necessary to know
of what our globe consists; whether it contains stones,
metals, or things entirely unknown; whether empty cavi-
ties, or whether, indeed, the whole earth is nothing but a
hollow sphere, on the surface of which we live, and in
whose inside there is possibly another world that might
be reached by boring through the thick shell.
With the exercise of a little thought, it will readily be
seen that the question, "How much does our earth weigh ?"
in reality directs us to the investigation of the character
of the earth's contents; this, however, is a question of a
scientific nature.
The problem was solved not very long ago. The result
obtained was, that the earth weighs 6,069,094,212 billions
of tons; that, as a general thing, it consists of a mass a
little less heavy than iron ; that towards the surface it con-
tains lighter materials ; that towards the centre they in-
crease in density ; and that, finally, the earth, though con-
taining many cavities near the surface, is itself not a hol-
low globe.
The way and manner in which they were able to inves-
tigate this scientifically, we will attempt now to set forth
as plainly and briefly as it can possibly be done.
CHAPTEE II.
THE ATTEMPT TO WEIGH THE EARTH.
IT is our task to explain, by what means men have suc-
ceeded in weighing the earth, and thus become acquainted
with the weight of its ingredients.
The means is simpler than might be thought at the mo-
ment. The execution, however, is more difficult than one
would at first suppose.
Ever since the great discovery of the immortal Newton,
it has been known that all celestial bodies attract one
another, and that this attraction is the greater, the greater
the attracting body is. Not only such celestial bodies as
the sun, the earth, the moon, the planets, and the fixed stars,
but all bodies have this power of attraction ; and it in-
creases in direct proportion to the increase of the mass of
the body. In order to make this clear, let us illustrate it
by an example. A pound of iron attracts a small body
near by ; two pounds of iron attract it precisely twice as
much ; in other words, the greater the weight of an ob-
ject, the greater the power of attraction it exercises on
the objects near by. Hence, if we know the attractive
power of a body, we also know its weight. Nay, we would
be able to do without scales of any kind in the world, if
we were only able to measure accurately the attractive
power of every object. This, however, is not possible ;
for the earth is so large a mass, and has consequently so
great an attractive power, that it draws down to itself all
objects which we may wish other bodies to attract.
If, therefore, we wish to place a small ball in the neighbor-
(5)
6 THE WEIGHT OF THE EARTH.
hood of ever so large an iron-ball, for the purpose of having
the little one attracted by the large one, this little ball
will, as soon as we let it go, fall to the earth, be-
cause the attractive power of the earth is many, very
many times greater than that of the largest iron-ball ; so
much greater is it, that the attraction of the iron-ball is not
even perceptible.
Physical science, however, has taught us to measure the
earth's attractive power very accurately, and this by a
very simple instrument, viz., a pendulum, such as is used
in a clock standing against the wall. If a pendulum in a
state of rest — in which it is nearest to the earth — is dis-
turbed, it hastens back to this resting-point with a certain
velocity. But because it is started and cannot stop with-
out the application of force, it recedes from the earth on
the other side. The earth's attraction in the meanwhile
draws it back, making it go the same way over again.
Thus it moves to and fro with a velocity which would in-
crease, if the earth's mass were to increase ; and decrease,
if the earth's mass were to decrease. Since the velocity
of a pendulum may be measured very accurately by count-
ing the number of vibrations it makes in a day, we are
able also to calculate accurately the attractive power of
the earth.
A few moments' consideration will make it clear to every-
body, that the precise weight of the earth can be known so
soon as an apparatus is contrived, by means of which a
pendulum may be attracted by a certain known mass, and
thus be made to move to and fro. Let us suppose this
mass to be a ball of a hundred pounds, and placed near a
pendulum. Then as many times as this ball weighs less
than the earth, so many times more slowly will a pendu-
lum be moved by the ball.
It was in this way that the experiment was made and
the desired result obtained. But it was not a very easy
THE ATTEMPT TO WEIGH THE EARTH. 1
undertaking, and we wish, therefore, to give our thinking
readers in the next chapter a more minute description of
this interesting experiment, with which we shall for the
present conclude the subject.
CHAPTEE III.
DESCRIPTION OF THE EXPERIMENT TO WEIGH THE
EARTH.
CAVENDISH, an English physicist, made the first success-
ful attempt to determine the attractive power of large
bodies. His first care was, to render the attraction of the
earth an inefficient element in his experiment. He did it
in the following way :
On the point of an upright needle he laid horizontally a
fine steel bar, which could turn to the right and left like
the magnetic needle in a compass-box. Then he fastened
a small metallic ball on each end of the steel bar. The
balls were of the same weight, for this reason the steel bar
was attracted by the earth with the same force at both
ends ; it therefore remained horizontal like the beam of
a balance, when the same weight is lying in each of the
scales. By this the attractive force of the earth was not
suspended, it is true ; but it was balanced by the equality
of the weights. Thus the earth's attractive power was
rendered ineffective for the disturbance of his apparatus.
Next he placed two large and very heavy metallic balls
at the ends of the steel bar, not, however, touching them.
The attractive force of the large balls began now to tell ;
it so attracted the small ones that they were drawn quite
near to the large balls. When, then, the observer, by a
gentle push, removed the small balls from their resting-
place, the large ones were seen to draw them back again.
But as the latter could not stop if once started, they
crossed their resting-point, and began to vibrate near the
(8)
DESCRIPTION OF THE EXPERIMENT TO WEIGH THE EARTH. 9
large balls in the same manner as a pendulum does, when
acted upon by the attractive force of the earth. Of course
this force was exceedingly small, compared with that of
the earth ; and for that reason the vibrations of this pendu-
lum were by far slower than those of a common one. This
could not be otherwise ; and from the slowness of a vibra-
tion, or from the small number of vibrations in a day,
Cavendish computed the real weight of the earth.
Such an experiment, however, is always connected with
extraordinary difficulties. The least expansion of the bar,
or the unequal expansion or contraction of the balls, caused
by a change of temperature, would vitiate the result ; be-
sides, the experiment must be made in a room surrounded
on all sides by masses equal in weight. Moreover, the
observer must not be stationed in the immediate neighbor-
hood, lest this might exercise attractive force, and by that
a disturbance. Finally, the air around must not be set in
motion, lest it might derange the pendulum ; and lastly, it
is necessary not only to determine the size and weight of
the balls, but also to obtain a form spherical to the utmost
perfection; and also to take care that the centre of gravity
of the balls be at the same time the centre of magnitude.
In order to remove all these difficulties, unusual precau-
tions and extraordinary expenses were necessary. Reich,
a naturalist in Freiberg, took infinite pains for the removal
of these obstacles. To his observations and computations
we owe the result he transmitted to us, viz. : that the mass
total of the earth is nearly five and a half times heavier
than a ball of water of the same size ; or, in scientific
language : The mean density of the earth is nearly five
and a half times that of water. Thence results the real
weight of the earth as being nearly fourteen quintillioris
of pounds. From this, again, it follows that the matter of
the earth grows denser the nearer the centre ; conse-
quently it cannot be a hollow sphere.
10 THE WEIGHT OF THE EARTH.
If we consider, that from the earth's surface to its centre
there is a distance of 3,956 miles, and that, with all our
excavations, no one has yet penetrated even five miles, wo
have reason to be proud of investigations which, at least
in part, disclose to man the unexplorable depths of the
earth.
PART II.
VELOCITY.
CHAPTEE I.
VELOCITIES OF THE FORCES OF NATURE.
IN former times, when a man would speak of the rapidity
with which light traverses space, most of his hearers
thought it to be a scientific exaggeration or a myth. At
present, however, when daily opportunity is afforded to
admire, for example, the velocity of the electric current in
the electro-magnetic telegraph, every one is well convinced
of the fact, that there are forces in nature which traverse
space with almost inconceivable velocity.
A wire a mile in length, if electrified at one end, be-
comes in the very instant electrified also at the other end.
This and similar things every one may observe for him-
self ; then, even the greatest sceptic among you will
clearly see, that the change — or "electric force" — which
an electrified wire undergoes at one end, is conveyed the
length of a mile in a twinkle, verily as if a mile were but
an inch.
But we learn more yet from this observation. The
velocity with which the electric force travels is so great,
that if a telegraph-wire, extending from New York to St.
Louis and back again, is electrified at one end, the electric
current will manifest itself at the other end in the same
moment. From this it follows, that the electric force
travels with such speed as to make a thousand miles in a
space of time scarcely perceptible. Or, in other words, it
travels a thousand miles in the same imperceptible frac-
tion of a moment that it does a single mile.
And experience has taught us even more yet. How-
(13)
14 VELOCITY.
ever great the distance connected by a telegraphic wire
may be, the result has always been, that the time which
electricity needs to run that distance, is imperceptibly
small ; so that it may well toe said, its passage occupies
an indivisible moment of time.
One might even be led to believe that this is really no
" running through " — in other words, that this transmission
of effect from one end of the wire to the other end does not
require any time at all, but that it happens, as if by en-
chantment, iu one and the same instant. This, however,
is not the case.
Ingenious experiments have been tried, to measure the
velocity of the elective force. It is now undoubtedly
proved, that it actually does require time for it to be
transmitted from one place to another ; that this certain
amount of time is imperceptible to us for this reason, viz.,
that all distances which have ever been connected by tele-
graph, are yet too small, to make the time it takes for the
current to go from one end to the other, perceptible to us.
Indeed, if our earth were surrounded by a wire, it would
still be too short for common observation, because the
electric force would run even through this space — twenty-
five thousand miles very nearly — in the tenth part of a
second.
Ingenious experiments have shown that the electric cur-
rent moves two hundred and fifty thousand miles in a
second. But how could this- have been ascertained ? And
are we certain that the result is trustworthy ?
The measurements have been made with great exacti-
tude. To those who are not afraid of a little thinking, we
will try to represent the way in which this measurement
was taken ; although a perfect representation of it is very
difficult to give in a few words.
CHAPTEK II.
HOW CAN THE VELOCITY OF THE ELECTRIC CURRENT
BE ASCERTAINED.
IN order to illustrate, bow the velocity of the electric
current can actually be measured, we must first introduce
the following :
Whenever a wire is to be magnetized by an electric
machine, at the moment it touches the machine, a bright
spark is seen at the end of the wire. The same spark is
seen also at the other end of the wire, if touching another
apparatus. Let us call the first spark the "entrance-
spark," the other the " exit-spark." If a wire, many miles
in extent, is put up, and led back to where the beginning of
the wire is, both sparks may be seen by the same ob-
server.
Now it is evident, that the exit-spark appears after the
entrance-spark just as much later, as the time it took the
electric current to run from one end of the wire to the
other end. But in spite of all efforts made, to see whether
the exit-spark actually appears later, the human eye has
not been able to detect the difference. The cause of this
is partly owing to the long duration of the impression
upon the retina, which leads us to the belief, that we see
objects much longer than we really do; partly, the immense
rapidity with which the exit-spark follows the entrance-
spark. From these two causes, we are tempted to believe
both sparks to appear at the same moment.
By an ingenious and excellent means, however, this
defect in our eye has been greatly diminished. It is well
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1 6 VELOCITY.
worth the trouble to read a description of the experiment
attentively. The truly remarkable way in which it was
tried, will please all who read it.
In order to measure the velocity of the electric current,
the ends of a very long wire are placed one above the
other. If, now, one makes the observation with the naked
eye, both sparks will be found to stand in a vertical line,
one above the other, as the points of a colon, thus (:).
But he who wishes to measure the velocity of the
electrical current does not look upon the sparks with the
naked eye, but into a small mirror, which, by a clock-work,
is made to revolve upon an upright axis with exceedingly
great rapidity. Thus he can see both sparks in the mirror.
If the apparatus be a good one, it will be observed that
the sparks, as seen by the aid of the mirror, do not stand
in a vertical line above one another, but obliquely, thus (/).
Whence does this come ?
The reason of it is, that after the appearance of the
entrance-spark it takes a short time, before the exit-spark
appears. During this short time the mirror moves, though
but little, and in it the exit-spark is seen as if it had moved
aside from the entrance-spark.
Hence, it is through the movement of the mirror that
the time, which is necessary for electricity to go through
the circuit of the wire, is ascertained. A little reflection
will readily convince the reader, that the time may be pre-
cisely calculated, provided three things be known, viz. :
the length of the wire, the velocity of rotation of the
mirror, and the angular distance of the two sparks as seen
in the mirror. Thus : Suppose the wire to be 1,000 miles
long; and suppose the mirror is made to revolve 100,000
times in a second. Now, if the electrical current traversed
these 1,000 miles of wire during one revolution of the
mirror, then it follows, that the current must move 1,000
miles in the TOO part of a second; or, 100,000 miles in a
second.
VELOCITY OF THE ELECTRIC CURRENT. 17
It is found, however, that the mirror does not revolve an
entire circle, or 360 degrees, while the current is passing
over 1,000 miles of wire, but we find that the mirror turns
through 144 degrees very nearly ; therefore the electric
current must travel more than 100,000 miles a second.
How much more ? Just as many times 100,000 miles, as
144 degrees are contained in 360 degrees (the entire
circle), viz., two and a half times. Hence, the current
travels 250,000 miles in a second.
PART III.
NUTRITION.
CHAPTEK I.
NOTHING- BUT MILK.
CONCEIVE a man, gifted with the keenest intellect, but
not knowing from experience, that sucklings grow and
become men, and imagine what he would say, if you were
to tell him this :
" Know, that the little being you see here, is a suckling,
that is, a developing human being, who Toy and by will
become thicker and taller. The bones of his body will be-
come firmer and longer. The muscles that animate these
bones will likewise increase in size. The same will hap-
pen with regard to his eyes, ears, nose, mouth ; to his
head, body, and feet ; every component part of his small
body will be developed further and further, until the child
will become a perfect man."
There is no doubt, that he who does not know all this
from experience, will shake his head at it.
But if you were to tell him : " This development and
growth have their source in the baby's sucking at the
mother's breast a white juice called milk, and out of this
milk all the constituent parts of the child are manufac-
tured within himself," — certainly your hearer would laugh
in your face, and perhaps call you a credulous fool.
"What I" he would exclaim, " do you mean to say that
milk contains flesh ? Or can you make bones out of milk,
or hair ? Can you make nails and teeth out of milk ? Do
you wish to persuade me, that milk may be changed into
eyes ? that from milk may be manufactured feet, hands,
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22 NUTRITION.
cheeks, eyelids, and the various other parts of the human
body?"
And if, in answer to this, you were to reply : "Yes,
it is so. Within this little creature is a factory, that not
only makes all you have mentioned, but much more In
this establishment, bones, hair, teeth, nails, flesh, blood,
veins, nerves, skin, juices, and water are manufactured;
all this is made from milk, and during the first months of
the child's life from nothing but milk," — then your hearer,
though he may have the understanding of the most judi-
cious of men, would be dumbfounded, and would beseech
you to tell him more about this factory.
You may be certain, he would like to know, how many
boilers, cylinders, valves, wires, ladles, oars, pumps, hooks,
pins, spokes, and knobs there may be in this factory ; more
especially would he wish to know, whether the engine of
this wonderful establishment be made of steel, wood, cast-
iron, silver or gold, or of diamonds.
Now, if you were to tell him, " It contains nothing of
the kind. Of all the factories you have seen in your life,
there is none that bears any resemblance to this one. And
I will tell you furthermore, that it is not even a complete
factory, but it is continually developing ; it becomes larger
and heavier like the child's body itself ; moreover, the fac-
tory does not consist of iron or steel, nor of gold or dia-
monds, but it reproduces itself at every moment; it does
so merely from the milk that the child drinks," — then, to
be sure, your hearer would begin to doubt his own senses;
he would exclaim: "What is the intellect of the intelli-
gent, the judgment of the judicious, what is the wisdom of
the wise, when compared to a little of the mother's milk ?"
And yet, you are well aware, my friendly reader, that
mother's milk is, after all, nothing but milk; and that milk,
again, is nothing but a means of nutrition; and nutrition,
NOTHING BUT MILK. 23
in its turn, is nothing but a part of the action of the human
body.
May I hope that you will favor me with your attention,
while, in a few articles, I speak to you about the nutri-
tion of the human body ?
CHAPTEK II.
MAN THE TRANSFORMED FOOD
BEFORE speaking of the process of nutrition in the human
body, we must first obtain a correct idea of what is meant
by nutrition.
Why are we obliged to eat ?
Of course we know that hunger forces us to do so. But
every one is aware also, that above all we must ask,
whence hunger arises; that we must first get better ac-
quainted with hunger itself, in order to understand nutri-
tion.
To explain this, however, it is necessary to turn our at-
tention to another thing, no less a miracle than nutrition
itself, viz., what in scientific language is called " Exchange
of Matter." To all of you it is a well-known fact, that
nothing in the human body remains even for a moment in
the same state; but that in every part of the body a con-
tinued exchange takes place. Air is breathed in and ex-
haled again; but the air exhaled is different from the air
inhaled. By this process an exchange of matter has taken
place; new matter has entered the body and waste matter
has been thrown out.
This exchange of matter — we shall speak more about it
at another opportunity — is a principal necessity for the
body and its functions; it consists in the main of an
incessant change, by which our body is forced to cast
out matter that formed parts of it, and is therefore obliged,
in order to compensate for the loss, to take in new matter.
Hence there is no exaggeration in the expression, " Man is
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MAN THE TRANSFORMED FOOD. 25
continually renewing himself;" we indeed lose and receive
particles of our body at every moment. People have gone
so far as to calculate that it takes seven years for the re-
newal of the whole body of man, and that after this space,
there is not even an atom left of the man as he was seven
years before.
The regular exchange of matter, as we have seen, sup-
poses the body to be a barter-place, where people take in
at the same ratio they pay out. Since, however, man
often pays out involuntarily and suffers so many losses —
by the mere process of breathing he ejects matter which
he must replace afterwards — this exchange of matter is
the cause of the body's possessing the feeling of want.
The body has paid out and receives nothing in return; this
feeling of want is what we call " Hunger." It forces us to
absorb as much as we have paid out.
Nutrition, consequently, is the continual replacing of
continual losses. It is the wonderful transformation of
food into the materials composing the human body.
When looking at our fellow-men, however, we must not
think, that they are merely beings that have eaten food;
but rather that they themselves, viz., their skin, hair,
bones, brain, flesh, blood, nails, and teeth, are nothing but
their own food, consumed and transformed.
CHAPTEK III.
WHAT STRANGE FOOD WE EAT,
MAN, according to what has preceded, is nothing but
transformed food.
This idea may frighten us; it may be terrible to our
hearts ; but let us frankly confess, it is a true one ! Man
consists only of such substances as he has consumed; he
is, in fact, nothing but the food he has eaten; he is food in
the shape of a living being.
A child is said to live on his mother's milk; but what
else does this mean than : " It is mother's milk, that has
become alive by having been changed into head, body,
hands, feet, etc., etc."
Indeed, it may sound strange, yet it is quite correct:
This mother's milk in the shape of a human being con-
sumes again new mother's milk, and, by respiration, by
evaporation and secretion of matter, casts out the used-up
milk.
This being so, it will now appear evident to every one,
that by a profound chemical knowledge of our daily food,
we may readily learn to know the chemical components of
man, and vice versa; knowing the substances of which man
is made, it is easy for us to determine, what kind of food
he must take, in order to continually renew his body.
Since the mother's milk is the simplest and most natural
food for the child, let us consider it according to its im-
portance. We shall then have a stepping-stone towards
the knowledge of the food of adults and its effects. The
mother's milk contains all the elements, with which the
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• WHAT STRANGE FOOD WE EAT. 2f
human bod^ can renew itself; should there be but one of
those elements wanting in it, the child would inevitably
perish.
If, for example, milk did not contain calcareous earth,
the consequence would be, that the bones of the child
would, soon after its birth, neither grow nor increase in
number, but they would fast diminish, and the child would
die in consequence of this. The attempt was once made
to feed animals on articles without calcareous parts, when,
strange to behold, they all grew fat, but very weak in
their bones, and finally broke down.
If milk contained no phosphorus, not only would the
bones and teeth suffer from the want of it, but even the
completion of the child's brain could not properly take
place, and the child could not replace the quantity of brain
which it emits and loses every moment by breathing.
If there were no iron in the mother's milk, the child
would die from the green-sickness, a malady which, by the
way, is dangerous also for grown people, and which is
cured by medicines containing plenty of iron.
If there were no sulphur in it, the child's bile could
not develop ; the bile, as every one knows, has an impor-
tant function in the human body.
These are but accessory elements of the mother's milk,
elements which usually are not looked upon as articles of
food; for who is aware that he must eat, and actually does
eat daily, phosphorus, iron, calcareous earth, and sulphur ?
And not only these; there are a great many other articles,
such as magnesia, chlorine, and fluor, that we eat without
being aware of it ; moreover, our proper food consists also
of three gases: nitrogen, oxygen, and hydrogen ; and of a
solid substance called " carbon," which is no less and no
more than pure coal.
All these, my friendly readers, are contained in milk — •
*11 these are the elements which in truth constitute the
28 NUTRITION.
human body. Perhaps some persons believe that there is
nothing easier than to procure proper food. It would only
be necessary to take a certain quantity of carbon, hydrogen,
oxygen, and nitrogen ; a little bit of potassium, natron,
calcium, and magnesia ; to mix a small piece of iron, sul-
phur, phosphorus, chlorine, and fluor, and take this mix-
ture by the spoon at regular intervals, in order to give
the body the necessary aliments. This, however, would be
a mistake, for which the perpetrator would pay with his
life.
Although it is true that these substances form the
proper and most important constituents of our daily food ;
yet, in order to enjoy the desired result, we must not par-
take of them in their primary forms ; they can actually
feed our body only when they are combined together in a
peculiar, wondrous manner.
In the next chapter it may be seen how nature first must
combine these substances before they are presented to us
as proper food ; and it will also be seen, that we receive
them sometimes in altogether different forms and combina-
tions ; for example, in the mother's milk, when we eat the
above-named elements in the forms of caseine (cheese),
butyrine (butter), sugar of milk, salt, and water. .
These latter names have a more savory sound, have
they not ?
CHAPTEE IV.
HOW NATURE PREPARES OUR FOOD.
IN the preceding article it was stated, that the food of
the child which lives on mother's milk, consists in its
primary elements of peculiar substances. These are prin-
cipally oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen ; three gases to
which may be added a large quantity of carbon, or, what
is the same, coal. Besides this wondrous mixture of air
and coal, the mother's milk contains still other elements,
but in a smaller proportion. In every-day life many of
them are unfamiliar ; for example, natron, calcium, mag-
nesia, chlorine, and fluor ; the others, however, are known
to every one ; viz., iron, sulphur, and phosphorus. All
these strange ingredients nature has carefully transformed
into milk. For in their primary state, and even in various
chemical combinations that may be produced artificially,
they would be little adapted for the purpose. It is there-
fore essentially necessary that nature herself should make
them ready for us. This she does by letting them pass
first into the vegetable state, and changing them afterwards
into new forms.
The plant feeds on primary chemical elements ; or, to
state it more correctly, the plant is nothing but trans-
formed primary elements! Not before the transformation
of these elements into plants are the elements adapted for
food for animals and men.
Moreover, all that man eats must first have been in the
vegetable state. Now, it is true that man also eats the
flesh, fat, and eggs of animals ; but whence have the ani-
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30 NUTRITION.
mals meat and eggs ? Only from the plants they con-
sume.
There is a remarkable succession of transformations in
nature. The primary elements nourish the plant ; the
plant nourishes the animal ; and both, plant and animal,
form the nourishment of man.
Even the mother's milk, the simplest and most natural
food of the child, owes its existence only to the fact that
the mother has eaten vegetable and animal matter. This
food, prepared for the mother by nature, has been changed
into the body of the same ; and partly, also, it has become
the milk destined to nourish the child.
Hence it is evident that mother's milk consists of oxy-
gen, nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon, and a small portion of
other chemical primary elements. But these substances
when appearing in the shape of milk, are combined in such
a manner as to form ready-made food ; as such they con-
stitute, as stated above, caseine, butyrine, sugar of milk,
salt, and water.
The next questions are : " What do these elements of
food perform when in the child's body ? What becomes of
these substances after they have been eaten by the child ?
How are they changed during the time of their stay in the
body ? And in what condition do they leave the child's
body, and how do they force him to desire food again ?"
These questions properly belong to the chapter on " Nu-
trition," where they will be answered in their turn. After-
wards, we must be permitted to turn our attention to a
further question, viz., "What articles of food are the
most advantageous to man from the time he is weaned,
or the time, he takes from among vegetable and animal
matter the same substances for food, that are contained in
the mother's milk ?"
In order to arrive at the answers to all these questions,
we were obliged to first prepare the ground a little This
HOW NATURE PREPARES OUR FOOD. 31
was a gain on our part, for now we shall attain the end in
a shorter time than would have been possible otherwise.
We trust that we may give our reader a correct idea of
the subject, if he will but come to our aid with his most
earnest attention and reflection ; these are needed here the
more, as we have to treat a difficult subject in a very short
space. *
CHAPTEE V.
WHAT BECOMES OF THE MOTHER'S MILK AFTER IT HAS
ENTERED THE BODY OF THE CHILD ?
WHEN the child has freed itself from the body of its.
mother, it consists of blood, flesh, and bones, which hereto-
fore were formed and nourished by the blood of the
mother.
As soon, however, as the child is born, it ceases to be
nourished in this manner. It ceases, also, to secrete through
its mother, substances which are useless to it. The child
now begins to breathe for itself, and by its breath secretes
carbon in the form of carbonic acid. Its skin begins to
perspire, and secretes chiefly hydrogen and oxygen in the
shape of water or vapor ; by the urine, finally, it secretes
nitrogen. These substances — carbon, hydrogen, oxygen,
nitrogen — before their secretion, constituted vital parts of
the child's body; now, however, they are wasted, and for
this reason must be thrown off.
It is evident that the child wants compensation for this
loss. This is given by the mother's milk; for it contains
chiefly these same substances.
But how is this effected ?
The milk passes from the child's mouth through the gul-
let into the stomach. While yet in the mouth, the milk is
mixed with a certain liquid called saliva. This saliva pos-
sesses the quality of preparing the milk for the necessary
change which will take place, when it reaches the child's
stomach. The principal work, however, is carried on in
the stomach itself. Its sides secrete a liquid called " gas-
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WHAT BECOMES OF THE MOTHER'S MILK. 33
trie juice," whose business it is, to transform into a pulp
milk, and also solid food, provided the latter be well mas-
ticated and moistened.
Science has taught us to prepare gastric juice artificially.
The process of digestion, that is, the transformation of
solid food — the crust of bread, meat, etc. — into a pulp, may
nowadays be observed in a glass filled with warm, arti-
ficial, gastric juice.
After the digestion is completed, the lower opening of
the stomach, which leads into the duodenum, and which,
during the process of digestion, was closed by a muscle,
opens itself. The pulp, now called " chyme,'' flows into the
continuation of the stomach — the " alimentary canal" or
" duodenum/5 This is but a long bag with many folds and
windings.
The chyme is here mixed again with a liquid called " in-
testinal juice;" it has the quality of continuing digestion
until the chyme separates into two parts; one of them, a
milky fluid called " chyle," contains the substance which
feeds the body. The other is the solid parts not adapted
to nutrition; they are thrown out by the lower opening of
the ''rectum."
But how is this nutritive part, the chyle, conveyed into
the various parts of the body ?
The intestinal canal is filled with extremely small ves-
sels called "lacteal absorbents." These vessels absorb the
chyle. This absorption, on account of the great length of
the intestinal canal — in adults it is nearly thirty feet long
— is, in a healthy body, accomplished very thoroughly
The real nutriment for the body is now contained in the
lacteal absorbents, an infinite number of small tubes.
All these small vessels, however, converge towards the
lower part of the spinal column, and uniting, form a vessel
which ascends into the chest; here it empties into a large
blood-vessel, the blood of which is on its way to the heart.
34 NUTRITION.
Thrown out of the heart in another direction, the blood is
pushed through the whole body.
Thus the food, after having been transformed into a
juice very similar to the blood, joins the blood after a cir-
cuitous journey, and is finally mixed with, or, more prop-
erly, changed into, blood.
CHAPTEE VI.
HOW THE BLOOD BECOMES THE VITAL, PART OF THE
BODY.
ONE would be well justified in calling the blood " man's
body in a liquid state." For the blood is destined to become
the living solid body of man.
People were astonished, when Liebig, the great naturalist,
called blood the "liquid flesh;" we are correct even in
going further and calling the blood " man's body in a liquid
state." From blood are prepared not only muscles and
flesh, but also bones, brain, fat, teeth, eyes, veins, carti-
lages, nerves, tendons, and even hair.
It is utterly wrong for anybody to suppose, that the con-
stituents of all these parts are dissolved in the blood, say
as sugar is dissolved in water. By no means. Water is
something quite different from the sugar dissolved in it;
while the blood is itself the material from which all the
solid parts of the body are formed.
The blood is received into the heart, and the heart, like
a pump, forces it into the lungs. There it absorbs in a
remarkable manner the oxygen of the air which comes into
the lungs by breathing. This blood, saturated now with
ox3rgen, is then recalled to another part of the heart by an
expansive movement of that organ.
This part of the heart contracts again and impels the
oxygenated blood into the whole body by means of arte-
ries, which branch out more and more, and become smaller
and smaller, until at last they are no longer visible to the
naked eye. In this manner the blood penetrates all parts
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36 NUTRITION.
of the body, and returns to the heart by means of similar
thread-like veins, which gradually join and form larger
veins. Having reached the heart, it is again forced into
the lungs, and absorbs there more oxygen, returns to the
heart, and -is again circulated through the whole system.
^ During this double circulation of the blood from the
heart to the lungs and back, and then from the heart to all
parts of the body and back again — during all this,the change
of particles, so remarkable in 'itself, is constantly going
on: the exchange by which the useless and wasted matter
are secreted and new substances distributed. This fact is
wonderful, and its cause not yet fully explained by sci-
ence; but so much is certain, that the blood when being
conveyed to all parts of the human body, deposits whatever
at the time may be needed there for the renewal of that
part.
Thus the blood that has been formed in the child from
the mother's milk, contains phosphorus, oxygen, and cal-
cium. These substances, during the circulation of the
blood, are deposited in the bones, and form " phosphate of
lime," the principal element in the bone. In the same
manner fluor and calcium are given to the teeth. The
muscles, or flesh, also receive their ingredients from the
blood; so do the nerves, veins, membranes, brain, and
nails; also the inner organs, such as the heart, lungs,
liver, kidneys, intestines, and stomach.
They all, however, in return give to the blood their
waste particles, which it carries to that part of the human
body where they may be secreted.
If any member of the body is so bound, that the blood
cannot circulate, it must decay; for the life of the body
consists in its constant change and transformation, in the
continual exchange of fresh substances for waste ones.
But this vital exchange is only kept up by the constant
circulation of the blood, which, while it decreases by being
BLOOD THE VITAL PAET OF THE BODY. 37
transformed into vital parts of the body, is always formed
anew by our daily food.
Food is therefore very justly called " Means of Exist-
ence," and the blood may rightly be called the " Juice of
Life."
CHAPTEE VII*
CIRCULATION OF MATTER.
THUS we have seen that the human body is vital blood,
transformed and solidified. Now, blood is food trans-
formed ; food consists of primary elements prepared and
changed by nature ; hence, man himself is primary matter
transformed and vivified.
But the human race being- thousands and thousands
of years old, and there being upon the earth besides man
the whole of the animal kingdom, developing, preserving,
and nourishing itself bodily like man; the question arises:
Whence do they all come, these primary elements that are
obliged forever to undergo transformation before they can
become animated vital matter ? Do these primary elements
not incessantly decrease during the long process of their
being changed into plants and consumed by man and
animal, in order to form human and animal bodies after-
wards ?
The answer to this interesting question has been given
already. The human body is not framed or created anew
at every moment by food ; but it is at every moment, that
small particles of the human body die. These particles
are returned to mother earth from which they sprang, thus
going back to the primary elements.
It is not only those who are dead, that render to the earth
what belongs to her, that return to nature what she gave
them; but in a far greater degree it is the living, that pay
their debt to nature.
Man's body is not his own; nature has lent it to him but for
(38)
CIRCULATION OF MATTER. 39
a short term of service ; then nature wrests her loan back
from him. Thus must man, spite all his pride, accept her
never-ceasing offer ; daily he must borrow and daily he
must repay in part, until the moment comes when he
borrows for the last time, the moment he expires; and
dying he leaves it to those around his bedside, to pay his
last debt to earth.
Is it not wonderful ? His own blood is the messenger
that daily carries new loans to him, and, in the shape of
transformed food, of transformed elements of nature, equips
his body. But his own blood is at the same time also
his cashier, who, having rendered him service, takes the
loan away, by secreting from the body elements that are
thus returned to nature.
With every revolution of the blood the body is supplied
with transformed food, which is immediately changed into
vital parts of the body; with every return of the blood waste
matter is carried off and deposited, where it may be thrown
out.
The blood carries waste matter to the kidneys that they
may send out of the body, in the shape of urine, waste
nitrogen, mixed with a part of the phosphate of lime, that
served to form bones and teeth, but is now useless. The
blood, besides, secretes perspiration through the skin.
This is a liquid containing water, hence oxygen and
hydrogen; but is moreover mixed with various other waste
substances of the body, as for example, carbonic acid>
nitrogen and fat. Chiefly, however, the blood is employed
in carrying waste carbon to the lungs, so that they may, by
the process of respiration, exhale carbonic acid, a gas
which would prove of deadly effect if remaining in the
lungs too long, or if inhaled.
The quantity of man's secretion per day is by no means
small. It amounts to the fourteenth part of his own
weight: nay, more — the weight of his perspiration alone,
40 NUTRITION.
secreted partly by evaporation in the shape of gas, partly
as a liquid in drops, amounts during twenty-four hours to
nearly two pounds.
Secreted substances have lost all the qualities of trans-
formed and vital matter. They return to the primary
elements and serve as food principally to plants, which
before had offered those very same substances as food
to man.
It is in this manner that the great circulation of matter
in nature takes place. From the lifeless primary elements
to the plant; from the plant, in the shape of food, to animal
and man ; from these, as waste substances, back again to
the primary elements, there to begin anew a circulation,
by means of which inanimate elements are reanimated,
and vital elements made lifeless again; that is, life changed
again into death.
And it is in this circulation that our " Nutrition," or,
more precisely, the " Change of Matter in Man," consists,
an important link in the life-preserving chain of nature.
CHAPTEE VIII.
FOOD.
FROM what has been said, it must appear evident that
only such dishes make good food as contain the same con-
stituents as the blood.
To have these constituents, food must contain salt, fat,
and sugar ; all these ingredients must, of course, be in a
certain proportion.
That water is essential for the support and renewal of
the body is clear to every one. The flesh we eat, contains
nearly eighty per cent, of water, and yet a man must die,
if he were to eat nothing but meat and to have no water,
for the reason that the eighty per cent, of water he takes
in would by no means be sufficient to form all the liquids
necessary for the human body.
The albumen that we eat, forms in the blood chiefly the
substances composing the muscular part of the flesh. But
it is an error to suppose, that therefore it is absolutely
necessary to eat eggs — the white of an egg is nearly pure
albumen — because the caseine (cheese) contains precisely
the same ingredients as the albumen ; for we have seen
before, and our readers are doubtless aware of it, that the
mother's milk contains caseine, while it is entirely free of
albumen. Hence, he who eates plenty of caseine, as do
shepherds in Switzerland, for example, scarcely needs any
meat. But besides caseine there is another element, viz.,
the vegetable albumen called gluten, which contains al-
buminous matter ; so do all glutinous plants. Peas,
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42 NUTRITION.
beans, and lentils in particular form food productive of
flesh.
The salts that must be given to the blood, do not only
consist in the common kitchen-salt. By the expression
" Salts n are meant various combinations of substances
which are usually not considered articles of food, for ex-
ample, the combinations of phosphorus, iron, etc., but are
not visible to the eye. They help to form bones, teeth,
nails, cartilages, and hair.
The fat which we take, appears to many people to be a
very important part of our food, and they believe that by
eating much fat, one may become fat. But this is not
correct. Ferocious animals that live only on meat and
fat, do not get fat ; while herbivorous animals fatten ex-
cessively, if provided with good mast, consisting of course
but of plants. Yet fat is, for all this, by no means super-
fluous to our body. Man needs it, because it is the fat
which chiefly supports his respiration. But the fat
that is needed for the body, is formed by man himself ; so
that but little of it need be eaten, and that little only for
the purpose of helping to form new fat from sugar.
It is therefore best to consider fat and sugar as food be-
longing together; for the fat is formed in the body from
sugar, and the small quantity of fat which we take daily
is only to promote the transformation of sugar into fat.
But let no one believe that one must needs actually eat
sugar ; no, every food that contains starch supplies the
place of sugar very well, as starch is changed, when in the
body, first to sugar and then to fat. The potato contains
starch and serves its purpose well; it is necessary, how-
ever, to put butter with it in order that the starch and
sugar formed from the potato in the stomach, may be
easily converted into fat.
An excellent article of food is bread, for it contains
nearly all the elements of nutrition. It contains vegetable
FOOD. 43
albumen, and therefore is converted into flesh. It has
nearly all the salts that are essential to the body ; more-
over, it contains starch from which fat is produced. There-
fore, by the mere addition of a little butter in order to make
the formation of fat easier, and by drinking water besides,
the human body is able to exist. On the other hand, the
potato, if taken alone, is an insufficient means of nutrition.
Neither would meat or albumen, if taken alone, be able to
preserve life.
Various experiments have been tried with animals, and
a great deal of information about the best means of feed-
ing the body has been collected. In order to investigate
the effect of the nutritive qualities of food, inquiries have
been made especially at military establishments, such as
barracks, etc.
CHAPTEE IX.
ABOUT NOURISHMENT.
IN obedience to the demands of modern science, numer-
ous experiments about nutrition have been made, in regard
to digestion as well as to the effects of hunger and of va-
rious elements of food.
As to digestion, the most excellent observations were
made on men afflicted with a fistula in the abdomen, that
is, a wound penetrating to the stomach. By means of this
wound, it was ascertained very minutely how long it took
to digest food, and what kind of transformation it under-
went. From this and other experiments it appeared, that
the time for digestion, though varying greatly with the
various articles of food, lasts from one and one-half to five
and one-half hours. Those most quickly digested are:
soft sweet apples, beaten eggs, and cooked brain. To
digest boiled milk, raw eggs, soft sour apples, roasted
beef, liver, two hours were required. Cooked spinal mar-
row, raw cabbage, fresh milk, roasted beef, oysters, soft-
boiled eggs, and raw ham, took nearly three hours. Wheat
bread, old cheese, potatoes were digested in nearly three
and one-half hours; pork, boiled cabbage, lamb's fat, not
before five hours.
The experiments about the effects produced by hunger
were tried only on animals. The results were that
during the state of starvation three-fourths of the blood
disappeared ; the fat was almost entirely consumed ; the flesh
disappeared one-half; even the skin diminished one-third,
and the bones lost about one-sixth of their weight. The least
(44)
ABOUT NOURISHMENT. 45
decrease was found to be in the nerves, a striking proof
that nerves possess a great power of self-preservation,
provided there be but a minimum of matter to feed them.
From numerous experiments the conclusion was drawn,
that an adult weighing about one hundred and thirty
pounds must die if he were to lose, say fifty pounds, by
starvation.
With regard to the effects of the Various articles of food,
experiments applied to dogs have shown that they can
live on bones for a long time ; but that they die if fed on
sugar only, and when examined after death, no trace of
any fat is to be found.
Animals fed on substances that contained no phosphorus
and lime became fat; but they died for want of the proper
nourishment for their bones. Animals died also when
nourished only with pure albumen or pure caseine. The
most remarkable fact in this connection is, that they per-
ished in the same length of time in which they would have
died, if they had taken no food whatever.
Experiments tried on man have shown that it is injuri-
ous to eat uniform food. A constant change in our food
is extremely nourishing and healthy. This is an experi-
ence made in prisons and barracks ; changes of food arc
made there every day during the week, so that each day
they have a different dinner. Once, a physician in Eng-
land wished to try the effects of uniform food on himself.
He took nothing but bread and water for forty-five days ;
in consequence of this he decreased eight pounds. Then
he ate for four weeks but bread and sugar, then bread and
oil three weeks; but finally he succumbed under his exper-
iments, and died, after having experimented thus for
eight months.
We must not, therefore, call it daintiness when we feel
an appetite for more variety of food, or if we soon get
tired of uniform meals: a constant change in this respect
46 NUTRITION.
is necessary. Experiments have shown that rabbits con-
tinue their health, if alternately they receive one day pota-
toes, the next day barley; but if they receive exclusively
potatoes or barley, they soon die.
In conclusion, we will mention a few articles of food and
their qualities. Among grains, wheat is known to be the
most nutritive, and wheat bread and meat taken together
is always good, wholesome food. Rice produces fat, but
if taken by itself, it is not worth much, since it is nourish-
ing only if eaten with butter, or fat, and a little meat.
Potato is a cheap, and yet an expensive food; for it con-
tains very little nutriment. In order to be of benefit
it must be eaten in great quantity ; besides, it is necessary
to season it with salt, butter, or fat, as otherwise it would
be totally useless. A good diet is peas, beans, and lentils;
but their hulls are indigestible, and must be removed.
In general, beverages are not counted among articles
of food; and kitchen-salt is commonly believed to be but a
matter of taste; but this is a great mistake. Coffee and
tea, too, are nourishing in their way; good beer is equal to
half a dinner, and as to salt, a frequent relish of the same
is an excellent means of nutrition.
Cheap coffee, cheap beer, and cheap salt are therefore a
great benefit to the people.
PART 1Y.
LIGHT AND DISTANCE.
CHAPTEK I.
SOMETHING- ABOUT ILLUMINATION.
FROM time to time we hear of plans to illuminate whole
cities by a great light from a single point. The credulity
of the newspaper public about affairs belonging to Physics
is so great, that we are not surprised if such plans are
spoken of as practicable ; though, indeed, one needs but
cast a glance of reflection on them, to be at once convinced
of their impracticability.
The impracticability does not consist so much in this, that
no such intense light can be made artificially, as in the cir-
cumstance that the illuminating power of light decreases
enormously as we recede from it.
In order to explain this to our readers, let us suppose
that on some high point in New York city, say Trinity-
church steeple, an intensely brilliant light be placed, as
bright as can be produced by gases or electricity. We
shall see, presently, how the remoter streets in New York
would be illuminated.
For the sake of clearness, let us imagine for a moment,
that at a square's distance from Trinity church there is a
street, intersecting Broadway at right angles. We will
call it " A " street. At a square's distance from " A " street
let us imagine another street running parallel to it, which
we will call "B" street; and again, at a square's distance,
a street parallel to " B " street, called " C " street ; thus let us
imagine seven streets in all — from "A" to " G" — running
parallel, each at a square's distance from the other, and in-
tersecting Broadway at right angles. Besides this, let us
(49)
50 LIGHT AND DISTANCE.
suppose there is a street called "X" street, running par-
allel with Broadway and at a square's distance from it ;
then we shall have seven squares, which are to be illumi-
nated by one great light.
It is well known that light decreases in intensity the fur-
ther we recede from it; but this intensity decreases in a pe-
culiar proportion. In order to understand this proportion we
must pause a moment, for it is something not easily com-
prehended. We hope, however, to present it in such a
shape, that the attentive reader will find no difficulty in
grasping a great law of nature, which, moreover, is of the
greatest moment for a multitude of cases.
Physics teach us, by calculation and experiments, the
following :
If a light illuminates a certain space, its intensity at
twice the distance is not twice as feeble, but two times two,
equal four times, as feeble. At three times the distance it
does not shine three times as feeble, but three times three,
that is nine times. In scientific language this is expressed
thus: "The intensity of light decreases in the ratio of the
square of the distance from its source."
Let us now try to apply this to our example.
We will take it for granted that the great light on Trin-
ity steeple shines so bright, that one is just able to read
these pages at a square's distance, viz., on " A " street.
On " B " street it will be much darker than on "A" street;
it will be precisely four times darker, because " B '' street is
twice the distance from Trinity church, and 2X2 = 4.
Hence, if we wish to read this on " B " street, our letters
must cover four times the space they do now.
" C " street is three times as far from the light as "A"
street ; hence it will be nine times darker there, for
3 X 3 = 9. This page in order to be readable there, would
then have to cover nine times the space it occupies now.
The next street, being four times as remote from the
SOMETHING ABOUT ILLUMINATION. 51
light as "A" street, our letters, according to the rule given
above, would have to cover sixteen times the present space,
for it is sixteen times darker there than on "A" street.
" E " street, which lies at five times the distance from the
light, will be twenty-five times darker, for 5 X 5 = 25.
" F " street, which is six times the distance, we shall find
thirty-six times darker; and, lastly, " G- n street, seven times
the distance from the light, will be forty-nine times darker
than "A" street, because 1 X ^ — ^9. The letters of a piece
of writing, in order to be legible there, must cover forty-
nine times the surface that our letters cover now.
But the reader will exclaim: " This evil can be remedied.
We need but place forty-nine lights on Trinity steeple;
there will then be. sufficient light on " G " street for any news-
paper to be read." Our friend will easily perceive, how-
ever, that it is more judicious to distribute forty-nine lights
in different places on Broadway, than to put them all on
one spot.
This is sufficient to convince any one that we may be
able to illuminate large public places with one light, but
not the streets of a city, and still less whole cities.
CHAPTEE II.
ILLUMINATION OF THE PLANETS BY THE SOT.
IT was demonstrated above, that it is impossible to illu-
minate large distances by a single light. Yet we must
acknowledge that nature herself does this, and that the
sun is the only light which shines throughout the solar
system; for the light which is seen in the planets is but
light received and reflected from the sun.
This is sufficient reason for us to believe, that there are
not on every planet creatures as we see them on our earth;
but that, on the contrary, each celestial body may be in-
habited by creatures organized according to the distance
of the planet from the sun; that is, adapted to the degree
of light produced there by the sun.
For the natural sciences teach us, that solar light is
subject to the same laws as our artificial light: it decreases
as the distance increases. The planets more remote from
the sun are illuminated less than those nearer to it. The
ratio in which this light decreases, is precisely the same as
that of the terrestrial light illustrated above, viz., accord-
ing to the square of the distance. In other words, when
the distance is double, the intensity of the light is one-fourth
as great; when three times, one-ninth as great; when four
times more remote, one-sixteenth as strong, etc. ; in short,
at every distance as much weaker as the distance multi-
plied by itself.
Presently we shall see that the planets are illuminated .
in inverse proportion to their distance from the sun. From
this alone we come to the conclusion, that on every planet
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ILLUMINATION OF THE PLANETS BY THE SUN. 53
the living beings must necessarily be differently consti-
tuted.
The name of the planet nearest to the sun is Mercury. It
is about two and a half times nearer to the sun than our
earth, therefore it receives nearly seven times as much
light. We can scarcely conceive such an intensity of light
and all the consequences resulting from it. If instead of
one sun we should happen to have three, there is no doubt
that we should go blind; but seven suns, that is, seven
times the light of our brightest days, we could not endure,
even if our eyes were closed; the more so, as our eyelids,
even when firmly closed, do not protect us from the sun's
light entirely. This is a proof of our assertion, that the
living beings on the planet Mercury must be differently
organized from us.
Venus, the third planet, is one and a third times nearer
to the sun than we are. The light on that planet, there-
fore, is nearly twice as bright as on ours. But inasmuch
as even this would be unbearable for us, the creatures on
this planet must likewise be different from us.
The third planet is the earth we inhabit. The intensity
of the sunlight in bright summer days is well known to us
from experience, although no one has as yet been success-
ful in measuring its degree as precisely as has been done
with heat by the thermometer. It is true that in modern
times a certain Mr. Schell, in Berlin, proposed to measure
light accurately, in a way that elicited the approbation of
naturalists, especially of Alexander von Humboldt. How-
ever, the experiments proposed have not yet been properly
carried out, though they are very useful to photographists.
Therefore we do not know, up to the present time, whether
there is any difference in the light of two cloudless sum-
mer days; just as little are we able to determine how much
the moon's light is weaker than the sun's.
The fourth planet's name is Mars; its distance from the
54 LIGHT AND DISTANCE.
sun is one and a half times our distance from the sun. There
the sun's light is about half as strong- as with us. Now,
although we often may have days which are half as bright
as others, it is yet very doubtful whether we could live on
Mars ; for light does not act upon our eyes only, but on our
whole body and its health. It is likely that the very want
of light there would prove fatal to us.
The twenty-four newly discovered planets have days
that are nearly six times darker than ours. The daylight
on these planets is probably as it was with TIS during the
great eclipse of the sun in July, 1851. This light was
very interesting for a few minutes, but if it were to con-
tinue it would certainly make us melancholy.
Far worse yet fare the remoter planets. On the planet
Jupiter it is as much as thirty times darker than with us.
On Saturn, eighty times. On Uranus, even three hundred
times; and upon the last of the planets, Neptune, discov-
ered in 1845, light is nine hundred times more feeble than
upon our globe.
Although it is true that all of the remoter planets have
many moons or satellites, yet it must not be forgotten that
the moons themselves are but very feebly illuminated;
that their light benefits during the night only, and even
then only lovers and night revellers.
PART V.
THE WONDERS OF ASTRONOMY.
CHAP TEE I.
A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.
MANY people are greatly surprised, that when a new
planet is discovered — and within late years this has been
frequently the case — astronomers should be able to deter-
mine a few days afterwards its distance from the sun, to-
gether with the number of years necessary for its orbit.
" How is it possible," they ask, " to survey a new guest
after such a short acquaintance so accurately, as to foretell
his path, nay, even the time of his course ?"
Nevertheless it is true that this can be done, and cer-
tainly no stage-coach nor locomotive can announce the hour
and minute of its arrival with as much accuracy as the
astronomer can foretell the arrival of a celestial body,
though he may have observed it but a short time.
More yet is done sometimes. In 1846, a naturalist in
Paris, Leverrier by name, found out, without looking in
the sky, without making observations with the telescope,
simply by dint of calculation, that there must exist a planet
at a distance from us of 2,862 millions of miles; that this
planet takes 60,238 days and 11 hours to move round the
sun; that it is 24 J heavier than our earth, and that it must
be found at a given time at a given place in the sky ; pro-
vided, of course, the quality of the telescope be such as to
enable it to be seen.
Leverrier communicated all this to the Academy of
Sciences in Paris. The Academy did not by any means
say, " The man is insane; how can he know what is going
on 2,862 millions of miles from us; he does not even know
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58 THE WONDERS OF ASTRONOMY.
what kind of weather we shall have to-morrow !" Neither
did they say, "This man wishes to sport with us, for he
maintains things that no one can prove to be false !" Nor,
" The man is a swindler, for he very likely has seen the
planet accidentally, and pretends now that he discovered
it by his learning." No, nothing of the kind; on the con-
trary, his communication was received with the proper re-
gard for its importance; Leverrier was well known as a
great naturalist.
Having thus learned how he made the discovery, the
members of the Academy felt convinced that there were
good reasons to believe his assertions to be true.
Complete success crowned his efforts.
He made the announcement to the Academy in January,
1846; on the 31st of August he sent in further reports
about the planet, which he had not seen as yet. The sur-
prise and astonishment on the part of scientific men can
scarcely be imagined, while on the part of the uneducated
there were but smiles and incredulity.
On the 23d of September, Mr. Galle — now Director of
the Breslau Observatory, at that time Assistant in that of
Berlin, a gentleman who had distinguished himself before
by successful observations and discoveries, received a let-
ter from Leverrier, requesting him to watch for the new
planet at a place designated in the heavens. Though other
cities at that time possessed better telescopes than Berlin,
this city was chosen because of its favorable situation for
observations.
That same evening Galle directed his telescope to that
spot in the sky indicated by Leverrier, and, at an exceed-
ingly small distance from it, actually discovered the planet.
This discovery of Leverrier is very justly called the
greatest triumph that ever crowned a scientific inquiry.
Indeed, nothing of the kind had ever transpired before; our
century may well be proud of it. But, my friendly reader,
A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY. 59
he who lives in this age without having any idea whatever
of the way in which such discoveries are made — he does
not deserve to be called a contemporary of this age.
We will not try to make an astronomer out of you; we
merely wish to explain to you the miracle of this dis-
covery.
CHAPTEE II.
MAIN SUPPORT OF LEVERRIER'S DISCOVERY.
WHEN Leverrier was working at his great discovery he
did not strike out a new path in science; he was sup
ported by a great law of nature, the base of all astronom
ical knowledge. It is the law of gravitation, discovered
by Sir Isaac Newton.
Those of our readers who have fully understood what
we said before (page 50) about light, will now easily com.
prehend, what we are going to say about the force of
gravity.
Every heavenly body is endowed with the power of at-
traction; that is, it attracts every other body in the same
manner that a magnet attracts iron. If the celestial
bodies, or, to speak only of one €lass, if all the planets
were at rest, that is, without motion, they would, on ac-
count of the great attractive power of the sun, rapidly ap-
proach it, and finally unite with it and form one body.
That this does not take place, may be ascribed solely to
the fact that all planets have their own motion. This mo-
tion, combined with the attractive force of the sun, causes
them to move in circles around it.
This may be illustrated by the following: Suppose a strong
magnet to lie in the centre of a table. Now, suppose some
one to place an iron ball on the table; then will this ball
run straightway towards the magnet. But if some one were
to roll the ball so that it should pass the magnet, it would
at first run in a straight line, but the magnet attracting it
at every moment pf time, the ball would be compellid to
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61
deviate from its straight course and would begin to circu-
late round.the magnet.
We see that this circular motion round the magnet
springs from two forces: first, from the hand that starts
the ball in a straight line; and secondly, from the attrac-
tion of the magnet, which at every moment draws the ball
towards itself.
Newton, the greatest natural philosopher of all times,
who lived in England two hundred years ago, proved, that
all the orbits round the sun, as described by the planets,
are caused by two such forces ; by the motion of the plan-
ets peculiar to themselves, which, if not interfered with,
would make them fly through space in a straight line; and
by the attractive force of the sun, which is continually
disturbing that straight course, thus forcing the planets to
move in circles around him.
But Newton has discovered more than this. He suc-
ceeded in proving that, knowing the time of a planet's
revolution around the sun, we can determine precisely with
what force the attractive power of the sun affects it. For
if the sun's attractive power is strong, the planet will re-
volve very quickly; if weak, it will move slowly.
Were the sun, for example, all of a sudden to lose a por-
tion of his attractive force, the consequence would be that
the earth must revolve around him more slowly. Our year,
which now has three hundred and sixty-five days, would
then have a much greater number of days.
Newton has also shown — and this is for us the main
thing — that the attractive force of the sun is strong in his
close proximity, but that it diminishes as the distance from
him increases. In other words, the remoter planets are at-
tracted by the sun with less force than those nearer to him.
The attractive force decreases with the distance in the
same proportion as light, which, we saw a little while ago,
decreases in intensity as the square of the distance in-
62 THE WONDERS OF ASTRONOMY.
creases. This means, that a planet at a distance from the
sun twice as great as that of the earth, is atk-acted with
only one-fourth the force; one that is three times the dis-
tance, with one-ninth of the force, etc.
This great law pervades all nature. It is -the basis of
the science of astronomy, and was the main support of Le-
verrier's discovery.
CHAPTEK III.
THE GREAT DISCOVERY.
PERHAPS the question presents itself to the thinking read-
er: If it be true that the heavenly bodies attract each
other, why do not the planets attract one another in such
a manner that they will run round and about each other ?
Newton himself proposed this question ; he also found
the answer. The attractive power of a celestial body
depends upon its larger or smaller mass. In our solar
system the sun's mass is so much larger than that of any
of the planets, that the balance of attractive power is
largely in his favor ; hence the revolving of the planets
around him. If the sun were to disappear suddenly the
effect of the attractive influence of the planets upon one
another would be tremendous. There can be no doubt
that they would all begin to revolve around Jupiter, be-
cause that planet has the largest mass. To give some
examples in figures, — the sun's mass is 355,499 heavier,
while Jupiter's is but 339 times heavier than that of the
earth. It is evident that, the sun's mass being more than
a thousand times larger than Jupiter's, so long as the sun
exists the earth will never revolve around Jupiter.
Yet Jupiter is not without influence upon the earth;
and though it is not able to draw it out of its course round
the sun, yet it attracts the earth to some extent. Obser-
vations and computations have shown us, that the earth's
orbit around the sun, owing to the attraction of Jupiter,
is somewhat changed, or, as it is called, " disturbed."
As with Jupiter and the earth, so with all the other
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64 THE WONDERS OF ASTRONOMY.
planets; their mutual attraction disturb their orbits round
the sun. In reality, every planet revolves in an orbit
which, without this " disturbance," would be a different
one. The computation of these disturbances constitutes a
great difficulty in astronomy, and requires the keenest
and most energetic studies ever made in science.
Perhaps some of our readers may ask here, whether in
course of time these disturbances will become so great as
to throw our whole solar system into confusion ? Well,
the same question was proposed by a great mathemati-
cian named Laplace, who lived towards the end of the last
century. But he himself answered the question in an im-
mortal work, "The Mechanics of the Heavens." He fur-
nished the proof, that all disturbances last but a certain
time; and that the solar system is constructed so that
the very attractions by which the disturbances are caused,
produce at the end of certain periods a regulation or
rectification ; so that in the end there is always complete
order.
After what has been said, it is evident that if one of the
planets were invisible, its presence would still be known
to our naturalists, on account of the disturbances it would
cause in the orbits of the other planets; unless, perhaps, its
mass be so insignificant as to render its power of attrac-
tion imperceptible.
And now we may proceed to explain the subject of this
chapter.
Up to the year 1846, when Leverrier made his great dis-
covery, it was believed that Uranus was the most distant
planet revolving around the sun. Uranus itself was dis-
covered by Sir John Herschel in England in the year 1781.
As this planet takes eighty-four years to go round the sun,
its complete revolution had not yet been observed in 1846;
in spite of this, however, the course of Uranus was calcu-
lated and known very precisely, because the attractive
THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 65
force of the sun was known ; and all the disturbances that
might influence the planet were taken into account.
But notwithstanding all nicety of calculations, the real
course of Uranus would not at all agree with the one com-
puted. At that time already, long before Leverrier's dis-
covery, the idea arose that beyond Uranus, in a region
where the human eye could, in spite of all telescopes, dis-
cover nothing, there must probably exist a planet which
changed the course of Uranus. Bessel, a great astrono-
mer, who unfortunately for science died too soon, was
already on the point of finding out by computation the
unknown disturber. But he died, shortly before Lever-
rier's discovery. As early even as 1840, Maedler, in the
city of Dorpat, in Russia, wrote a fine article on this as yet
unseen disturber.
Leverrier, however, began the task and finished it. He
computed with an acuteness that was admired by all men
of science. He investigated whereabout in the heavens
that intruder must be situated, so as to be able to trouble
Uranus to such an extent; how fast this disturber itself
must move in its orbit, and how large must be its mass.
We live to see the triumph of Leverrier's being able to
discover with his mental eye, by means of computation
only, a planet at a distance of millions of miles from him.
Therefore let us say: Honor science I Honor the men
that cultivate it ! And all honor to the human intellect
which sees farther than the human eye !
PART VI.
METEOROLOGY.
CHAPTEB I.
SOMETHING- ABOUT THE "WEATHER.
WE presume that in a state of unusual bad weather there
are many persons, who find occasion to reflect on the nature
of weather in general.
A few years ago, we had " green Christmas and white
Easter," and spring was of course far behind when Pente-
cost arrived. We had still cold and rainy days, while the
nights were frosty; and, if one might judge from appear-
ances, it seemed that nature had made a mistake, and had
not known of our being then in the month of June, which,
with us, is usually a delightful month.
The sun alone was right. He rose on the 9th of June of
that year precisely at 4 o'clock 30 minutes, as was pre-
scribed to him by the calendar; and set at t o'clock 30
minutes, precisely according to orders. At that time the
sun was hastening towards summer, he lengthened the
days and shortened the nights; but he alone is not capa-
ble of governing the weather, and our friends the astrono-
mers, although they are able to calculate the sun's course
with more precision than the engineer can the locomotive's,
are themselves greatly embarrassed when asked, " What
kind of weather shall we have the day after to-morrow ?"
It is unpardonable that some of our almanacs, especially
those for the farmer, contain prophecies about the weather.
We cannot be too indignant against the foolish supersti-
tion which this abuse tends to foster. And what is worse,
really shameful, is, that those who print such things do not
believe in them themselves, but consider them a necessity
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TO METEOROLOGY.
sanctioned by age and custom, and offer it as such to the
credulity of the public.
The subject of this article on the knowledge of weather,
is a science, a great branch of the natural sciences ; but
it is a branch just developing, and therefore has, up to the
present time, not yet brought forth any fruit.
It is very likely that at some future day we shall be able
to indicate in advance the weather of any given place.
But for the present this is impossible; and if from time to
time men arise and announce that they can calculate and
determine in advance the state of the weather in any given
place — pretending to consult the planets, etc. — we take it
for granted that they are as unreliable as the weather-
prophets of the almanacs.
We said above that the weather might possibly be de-
termined a few days ahead; science is at present almost
far enough advanced for it. But there are needed for that
purpose grand institutions, which must first be called into
life.
If for the proper observation of the weather, stations
were erected throughout the extent of our country, at a
distance of about seventy miles from each other, and if
these stations were connected by a telegraph-wire, man-
aged by a scientific reliable observer ; then we might, in
the middle portion of our country, be able to determine in
advance the state of the weather, though for a short time
only.
For the changeableness of the weather depends on the
nature and motion of the air, and on the amount of moist-
ure, and the direction of the winds. It is mostly occa-
sioned by currents of air which pass over the earth, pro-
ducing, wherever they meet, here cold, there heat — here
rain, there hail or snow.
Along a part of the coast of the United States electric
telegraphs have been established. Vessels receive, at a
SOMETHING ABOUT THE WEATHER. 1
considerable distance, the news of a storm approaching-,
together with its velocity and direction. The electric tel-
egraph being quicker than the wind, the vessels receive
the news in time to take their directions. Before the storm
reaches them, they have been enabled to take precaution-
ary measures for its reception.
This is a great step forward in our new science. But
not before the time when such stations shall be established
everywhere throughout the land, will meteorology mani-
fest its real importance. For it has, like every other
science, firmly established rules, which can easily be cal-
culated and verified; while, on the other hand, allowances
must be made for changeable conditions which tend to dis-
turb the rules.
We will now endeavor to introduce to our readers these
established rules, and explain the changeable conditions to
which we refer.
CHAPTEE II.
OF THE WEATHER IN SUMMER AND WINTER.
As we have stated above, there exist fixed rules about
the weather; these rules are simple and easy to compute.
But our computations are often disturbed by a great many
circumstances beyond our reach, so much that we are gov-
erned more by exceptions than rules.
These latter are based on the position of our earth with
regard to the sun. They are, therefore, easy to determine,
for astronomy is a science resting on firm pillars; and al-
though nothing in the universe is so far from us . as the
stars, yet there is nothing in the world so certain as our
knowledge of the courses of the constellations and their
distances. Many of our readers may be surprised, per
haps, to hear that we know more accurately the distance
from the earth to the sun than the distance from New York
to Cincinnati. Indeed, astronomical knowledge is the most
reliable in the world. No merchant is able to measure a
piece of cloth without being mistaken, to say the least, as
much as -3-!^ part; while the uncertainty with respect to
distances of bodies in the solar system amounts to a great
deal less than -3-^ part.
Our earth turns on its axis once in every twenty-four
hours, and goes also round the sun once a year. But the
earth's axis is inclined towards the earth's orbit — orbit is
the circle which a celestial body describes in its revolution
around another — in such a manner as to cause the earth,
in its orbit round the sun, to be illuminated for six months
on one side, and for six months on the other side of the
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OF THE WEATHER IX SUMMER AND WINTER. 13
earth. Hence it happens, that at the north pole there is.
continual day during six months in the year, after which
follows uninterrupted winter for the next six months; in
the same way the day on the south pole lasts six months,
and the night following the same length of time. In the
middle between both poles, however, in the regions around
the equator, the day has throughout the year twelve hours;
the night, of course, the same; while in the countries be-
tween the equator and the poles, the length of day and
night is, through the whole year, constantly varying.
We, in the United States, inhabit the northern hemi-
sphere ; when, therefore, the time comes that the north pole
has day for six months, we in North America, being situ-
ated about half-way between the equator and north pole,
enjoy long days and short nights. The inhabitants of those
countries, however, situated on the southern hemisphere,
have at that time short days and long nights. But when
the time comes that there is six months' night on the north
pole and six months' day on the south pole, then will the
inhabitants of the southern hemisphere have long days,
and we long nights.
Intimately connected with the length of day and night
are our seasons, especially summer and winter; for together
with the sun's light heat is also called forth. During our
long days, therefore, it is very warm with us, for the sun's
rays heat the soil. During our short days we experience
cold, because the warming light of the sun does not reach
our earth directly. For this reason the northern hemisphere
enjoys summer while the southern has winter; and vice
versa, when we have mid-winter, people in the other hemi-
sphere are in the midst of summer. When we are snow-
ed up at Christmas, and seek joy and elevation by the
cheerful fireside in the brightly-lighted room, we may, per-
haps, think of our friends and relatives who have emigrated
to Australia, and the question may occur to us, how things
74 METEOROLOGY.
may be with them this cold weather, and how they are en-
joying- the holidays ?
Now, would not the uninformed be surprised, if a letter
were to arrive from Australia, written at Christmas, telling
how the writer enjoyed Christmas in his vine-arbor, where
he had sought shelter from the terrible heat of the day, and
that he had but late at night gone to his room, and he
could scarcely sleep then on account of the heat, and the
longing for his former home in the United States, where he
could always enjoy cool weather at Christmas.
The uninformed will now learn that Australia lies in the
southern hemisphere, while we are in the northern, and
that there they live in midst of summer, while we are
buried in snow. Nor will he now be surprised when he
reads, that it snowed in Australia in the month of August,
and that his friend or relative there reposed by the fire-
side, and read the letter from home by the light of the
lamp, at the same hour that we here were taking an after-
noon walk in the summer shade.
The heat of summer, however, does not altogether
depend upon the length of the day; nor does the cold of
winter upon its shortness; but principally on this, that
during summer-time the sun at noon stands directly over
head ; that therefore his vertical rays are enabled to pierce
the soil with intense heat; while in winter-time the sun at
noon stands nearer to the horizon ; his rays fall on the earth
obliquely, therefore heating the soil with but feeble power.
We shall presently see that this position of the sun ex-
ercises great influence upon the weather.
CHAPTER III.
THE CURRENTS OF AIR AND THE WEATHER.
IN order to fully understand the conditions of the atmos-
phere, one must carefully notice the following :
Though the sun produces summer and winter, and
although his beams call forth heat, and the absence of heat
causes intense cold on the surface of the globe, yet the
sun alone does not make what we call " Weather.''
If the sun's influence alone were prevalent, there would
be no change at all during our seasons; once cold or warm,
it would invariably continue to be so, according to the
time of the year. The sun, however, produces certain
movements in the air; currents of air or winds pour from
cold countries into warm ones, and vice versa from warm
ones into cold ones. It is this that makes our sky be
cloudy or clear; that produces rain and sunshine, snow
and hail, refreshing coolness in summer and warmth some-
times in midwinter, as also chilly nights in summer and
thaw in winter. In other words, it is more properly the
motion of the air, the wind, that produces what we call
weather; that is, that changeableness from heat to cold,
from dryness to moisture, all of which may be comprised
in one name, weather.
But whence does the wind arise ? It is caused by the
influence of the sun's heat upon the air.
The whole earth is enveloped with a misty cover called
"air." This air has the peculiar quality of expanding
when it becomes heated. If you put a bladder that is
filled with air and tied up, into the pipe of a heated stove,
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76 METEOROLOGY.
the air inside will expand so much as to burst the bladder
with a loud report. The warm expanded air is lighter
than the cold air, and always ascends in the atmosphere.
Lofty rooms are therefore difficult to heat because the
warm air ascends towards the ceiling. In every room
it is much cooler near the floor than near the top of the
room. This accounts for the singular fact that in winter
our feet, though warmly clad in stockings and shoes or
boots, feel cold more often than our hands, which are en-
tirely uncovered. If you ascend a ladder in a tolerably
cold room, you are surprised at finding it much warmer
above than below in the room. The flies take advantage
of this in autumn, when they are seen to promenade on
the ceiling, because there it is warm as in summer,
while near the floor it is cold ; owing to the circum-
stance that warm air, being lighter than cold, ascends.
Precisely the same takes place on the earth. In the hot
zone near the equator the sun heats the air continually;
hence the air there ascends. But from both the northern
and southern hemispheres, cold air is constantly pour-
ing towards the equator in order to fill the vacuum thus
produced. This cold air is now heated also and rises,
while other cold air rushes in after. By this continued
motion of the air towards the equator, however, a vacuum
is created also at both poles of the earth ; and the heated
air of the equator, after having ascended, flows towards
these two vacuums. Thus arise the currents in the air;
currents which continue the whole year, and cause the
cold air to move from the poles to the equator along the
surface of the earth; while higher in the atmosphere the
heated air flows from the equator back to the poles.
Therefore the air is said to circulate below from the
poles to the equator, but above to go back from the equa-
tor to the poles,
He who is in the habit of noticing phenomena of
THE CURRENTS OF AIR AND THE WEATHER. 77
nature, may often have observed something of the kind
when opening the window of a room filled with smoke.
The smoke escapes above, while below it seems to come
back into the room again.
But this is an illusion which has its origin in the fact,
that above the warm air of the room goes out of the win-
dow, and, of course, takes the smoke with it; below at the
window, however, cold air pours in from without, driving
the smoke that is below back into the room. The atten-
tive observer may also see how the two currents of air
above and below move in contrary directions; while in
the middle part they repel each other, and form a kind
of eddy which may be clearly perceived by 'the motion
of tfie smoke.
What takes place on our earth is nothing different from
this, and we shall presently see the great influence this
has upon our weather.
CHAPTEK IY.
THE FIRM RULES OF METEOROLOGY.
THE air which is continually rising in the hot zones and
circulating towards the poles and back again to the equa-
tor, is the prime source of the wind. This latter modifies
the temperature of the atmosphere; for the cold air from
the poles of the earth, in coming to the equator, cools the
torrid zone; again, the hot air going from there to the poles
heats the colder regions. This accounts for the fact that
very often it is not so cold in cold countries as it really
would be, were it not for this circulation of the air; and
that in hot countries we never find the degree of heat that
there would be if the air were continually at rest.
According to what has been said, however, but two dif-
ferent winds would exist on the earth, and these two mov-
ing in fixed directions; one sweeping over the earth from
the poles to the equator, with us called "North wind," and
one from the equator to the icy regions, with us the " South
wind."
But we must add here something which considerably
modifies this, viz., the revolution of the globe. The earth,
it is well known, revolves round its axis from west to east
once in twenty-four hours; the atmosphere performs this
revolution also.
But since that part of the atmosphere nearest to the
equator -must move with greater velocity than the part
nearer the poles, it may with a little thinking be easily un-
derstood, that the air which goes on the surface of the earth
from the poles to the equator, passes over ground which
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THE FIRM RULES OF METEOROLOGY. 19
moves faster east than the air itself; while, on the contrary,
the air coming from the hot zone starts in an eastern di-
rection with the velocity it had on the equator; but, as it
it is moving on, it passes over that part of the earth which
rotates with less velocity.
This gives rise to what are called the trade-winds, so very
important to navigation. In our hemisphere the trade-
winds come in the lower strata of the air from the north-
east ; while in the upper strata they move towards north-
east, they come from the southwest. On the other hemi-
sphere the trade-winds in the lower strata of the air move
in a northwesterly direction; in the upper they move in a
southeasterly direction.
From this arise our rules respecting the weather.
The idea that many persons have that wind and weather
are two things entirely different, is wrong. Weather is
nothing else but a condition of the atmosphere. A cold
winter, cold spring, cold summer, and cold autumn, do not
mean, as some believe, that the earth, or that part of it on
which they live, is colder than usual; for if we dig a hole
in the ground, it will be found that neither cold nor warm
weather has any influence upon the temperature below the
surface of the earth. At the small depth of thirty inches
below the surface, no difference can be found between the
heat of the day and the cold of the night. In a well sixty
feet deep no difference is perceivable between the hottest
summer and the coldest winter-day, for below the surface
of the earth the differences of temperature do not exist.
What we call Weather" is but a state of the atmosphere,
and depends solely upon the wind.
It has been stated already that there are fixed rules of
weather, or, which is the same thing, that there are laws
governing the motion of the winds; but we have added
also, that there are a great many causes which disturb
80 METEOROLOGY.
these rules, and therefore make any calculations in ad-
vance a sheer impossibility.
We have seen that these rules are called forth, 1st, by
the course of the sun; 2d, by the circulation of the air
from the poles to the equator arid back again; and 3d,
by the revolution of the earth, causing the trade-winds.
All these various items have been calculated correctly;
and, owing to this, we have now a firm basis in meteorol-
ogy. But in the next article, we shall see what obstacles
are put in the way of this new science by other things;
and the allowances to be made for these disturbances can-
not be easily computed.
CHAPTEE V.
AIR AND WATER IN THEIR RELATIONS TO WEATHER.
LET us now examine the causes which disturb the regu-
lar currents of air, and which render the otherwise com-
putable winds incomputable, thus producing the great ir-
regularities of the weather.
The main cause lies in this, that neither the air nor the
earth is everywhere in the same condition.
Every housewife that but once in her life hung up clothes
to dry, knows full well that air absorbs moisture when
passing over, or through, wet objects. If she wishes to dry
her clothes very quickly, she will hang then! up where
there is much wind. And she is perfectly right in main-
taining that the wind dries clothes better than the quiet
sunshine.
Whence does this come ?
From this : dry air, when coming in contact with wet
objects, absorbs the moisture, and by this dries the object
somewhat. If there be no wind, the moistened air will
remain around the wet object, and the drying goes on very
slowly. But so soon as a little wind arises, the moist air
is moved away, new dry air constantly takes its place, and
coming into contact with the wet article, effects in a very
short time the desired result.
Hence, it is not heat alone that causes the clothes to
dry; for in winter-time, though it is so cold that the clothes
on the line freeze to stiffness, they dry nevertheless, if it
be very windy. It is the wind which dries them by allow-
ing fresh air to pass through them continually. For the
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82 METEOROLOGY.
same reason our housewives open doors and windows after
a room has been scoured, so that by a thoropgh draft of
air, the floor may dry quickly; a large fire in the stove or
fireplace could not effect it so readily.
From all this we may learn that the air absorbs parti-
cles of water. It will now be evident to every one, why
water in a tumbler, standing uncovered at the open win-
dow for a few days, constantly decreases, until it finally
disappears entirely and the tumbler is dry. Where has
the water gone ? The air drank it off, little by little, until
at last the tumbler was emptied.
" But," you will exclaim, " what does the air do with all
the water it drinks ? The air goes over the whole ocean;
over lakes, rivers, brooks, and springs; over woods and
fields, and everywhere it takes in particles of water. What
becomes of them ?"
After being absorbed, the particles of water unite and
form clouds; then they fall down in the form of fog, rain,
snow, or hail.
Many persons, even highly educated ones, have false ideas
about these phenomena of the atmosphere.
Some think a cloud is a kind of bag that contains the
rain which is let fall by the cloud. This is entirely false.
The clouds are nothing but fogs in the upper regions of
the atmosphere; fog itself is nothing but a cloud imme-
diately over ground.
It is easy to obtain a correct idea of the formation of
fog and rain; one need but observe for one's self.
He who has ever blown upon his hands in winter-time
in order to warm them, will have observed that his hands
become moist from his breath. If a window-pane is
breathed upon, it is covered by a thin coat of water. What
is the cause of this ? It arises from the fact that the air
we exhale contains water-particles from our blood. We do
not see them when it is warm, because they are airy them-
AIR AND WATER IN THEIR RELATIONS TO WEATHER. 83
selves ; everybody knows that they become visible so soon
as the air turns cool ; or that they appear like fog when
one is in a cold room in winter; that they form drops when
you breathe upon cold objects; that they freeze and be-
come snow; nay, that in severe cold weather, after a long-
walk out-doors, they even cling to one's moustache like
icicles.
This may illustrate, that these particles of water are in-
visible in the warm air, but that when the air is colder
they appear as fog; when still colder, as drops of rain;
and in very cold weather they turn to snow, while in se-
vere cold they freeze and form ice.
CHAPTEK VI.
FOG, CLOUDS, BAIN, AND SNOW.
THE air imbibes particles of water from all parts of the
earth ; and thus charged with water it is the same and
operates the same as our breath.
So soon as a stratum of air that contains water-particles,
meets with a colder stratum, these airy particles of water
immediately flow together to form fog. But fog, as has
been said, is nothing but a cloud. He who has travelled in
mountainous countries, has often noticed this. From the
valley it often appears that the top of a high mountain is
wrapped in clouds; and his curiosity may be excited to
ascend the mountain in order to examine these clouds. But
when he arrives there, he sees nothing whatever either
before or behind him but fog, which most assuredly he has
often seen before without so much trouble. The ignorant
person who believes that a cloud is something else than
fog, and who fancies that the clouds which he saw from
below have disappeared during his ascent, leaving but a
mist behind, will be no little amazed when he has arrived
at the foot of the mountain again, to see the cloud above
as before, and to perceive that he actually walked among
the clouds.
Hence it is understood now, that the particles of water
in the air form fog, or, which is the same, clouds, so soon
as they come into a colder stratum. But the cloud is not
rain as yet ; the change into rain will depend upon circum-
stances that may be easily guessed. If a warmer and
dryer stratum passes over the one containing the newly
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FOG, CLOUDS, RAIN, AND SNOW. 85
formed clouds, then this warmer stratum will absorb the
water-particles of the other. The moist air fares like the
wet clothes we spoke of; the warm dry air absorbs its par-
ticles of water. But if a colder stratum of air approaches
the stratum containing1 clouds, then the water-particles
of the latter are condensed; the cloud becomes small drops
of water; these drops are too heavy to be supported in the
air, and they fall down as rain.
During its descent, the drop of rain is steadily increased
by the water-particles of the air through which it passes.
Thus it happens, that rain often arrives at the earth in the
form of large drops of water, while when yet in the air
and beginning to fall, it consisted of tiny drops. It is
well known that the rain-drops on thereof are smaller than
those that fall on the street. The difference is so great,
that on the roof of the royal castle in Berlin, Prussia, there
falls four and a half inches less rain during the year than
on the square before the building.
Our readers may now imagine, without difficulty, how
in a similar way, snow is formed. If a stratum of air satu-
rated with moisture meets a very cold one, the fog begins
to freeze, and becomes specks of snow. They, too, increase
while falling, and on arriving upon the earth they are large
flakes.
On the occasion of a lecture about the formation of snow
in the atmosphere, Professor Dove once told an anecdote,
which is as interesting as it is instructive. A musician in
St. Petersburg gave a concert in a large hall, where the
fashionable world had assembled in great numbers. It
was an icy cold night, such as is almost unknown with us;
but in the overcrowded hall there was such excessive heat
as only Russians can endure. Soon, however, it became
too intense even for them. The hall was densely crowded ;
the throng was alarming; several ladies fainted. An
effort was made to open a window, but without success —
86 METEOROLOGY.
the window was frozen fast. A gallant officer devised
means; he broke the window in. And what happened?
It commenced to snow in the concert room ! How did this
come ? The vapor exhaled by the multitude of persons in
the hall had collected abx>ve, where the air was hottest.
The sudden entrance of the icy air through the broken
window changed the particles of water into snow. Thus
it was this time not heaven, but the upper space of an un-
ventilated concert-hall, that sent down snow.
In a similar way hail is formed in the atmosphere; this
we shall consider at more length hereafter. At present
we must turn our attention to the influence of these phe-
nomena upon cold and heat; for it is a known fact, that
rain and evaporation are not only engendered by cold and
heat, but, vice versa, that rain and evaporation, in their
turn, engender cold and heat in the air.
CHAPTEE VII.
HOW HEAT IN THE AIR BECOMES LATENT, AND HOW IT
GETS FREE AGAIN.
IN the preceding chapter it was shown how warm air
produces evaporation, and how cold air causes rain and
snow. In this chapter we desire to demonstrate how the
reverse may take place, viz., the engendering of cold and
heat by evaporation and rain.
Although what we wish to prove in the following is firmly
established, yet it is not easy to make it understood. For
this reason many educated men, who have read much about
"free and latent heat," have mistaken ideas about it.
In order that what we shall explain may be in the reach
of every one, we must again choose our examples from life
itself, and request our readers to come to our aid with their
thoughts.
Every one knows how water is boiled. It is placed
over the fire, the heat of which communicates itself to the
water and heats it more and more. Now, where does the
heat of the fire go ? It is taken up by the water; thus to
speak, the water absorbs the heat. This explains why a
cooking-stove on which a dinner is cooked, does not get
near as warm as it would, if the same quantity of fuel had
been used without any cooking on the stove. For a por-
tion of the heat being absorbed by the meat, it cannot
heat the stove; hence the stove fails to receive the amount
of heat that is used in cooking the meat.
What will be the effect of taking boiling water from the
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88 METEOROLOGY.
stove and placing it in the room somewhere ? Where will
the heat of the water go then ?
We all know that in this case the water cools down by
degrees. The water gives out its heat. Now, it is evi-
dent that while on the fire, the water had absorbed heat;
and that it gave out that heat on being put in a colder
place.
But what will. become of the water if it is allowed to
continue to absorb heat ? What becomes of a pot of water,
if, on beginning to boil, it is not taken off the fire ? Does
such water continue to absorb heat ?
Observation shows that this is not the case. Put a
thermometer into boiling water; it will immediately rise
to 212 degrees; let it remain there ever so long, it will not
rise a degree higher. But during that time there was a
brisk fire; it is evident, therefore, that heat was continu-
ally passing into the water. Where, then, is this heat ?
It has not remained in the water, or else the thermometer
would have continued to rise. It must be, then, that it
has passed away with the burning hot steam which has
been constantly rising and floating about in the room.
Moreover, it is well known that water, when allowed to
continue to boil, decreases in quantity. Our housewives
call this " boiling down." In truth, however, the water boils
up ; for, if you notice carefully, a part of the water, while
boiling, is changed into steam, which may be seen rising
from the pot and ascending in the air. The question nat-
urally arises now, where is the heat that the boiling water
has been continually absorbing ? It has not remained in
the water, or the thermometer would have continued to
rise. The answer is now evident : the heat has risen with
the steam, and with it floats about in the air; or, in other
words, the heat has been absorbed by the steam; or, which
is the same, the heat has become latent in the steam.
Therefore we are correct in saying, it takes heat to change
HOW HEAT IN THE AIR BECOMES LATENT, ETC. 89
water into steam. We know now where the heat has gone ;
it has become latent in the steam.
The next question might be : Can this latent heat be-
come free again ? Certainly it can ; and many a good
housewife has convinced herself of it very often, though
perhaps she did not philosophize about it. When touch-
ing unawares the spout of the tea-kettle with her hand she
felt as though her hand was wet, and scalded besides.
Whence did this come ? The hand was wetted by the
steam, which, on coming in contact with the hand,
changed to water again, but in the same moment, also,
the steam gave up its heat to the hand by scalding it.
Steam, therefore, when changing into water, gives its latent
heat up again ; or, the latent heat becomes free.
This phenomenon, which may be witnessed in every
kitchen, happens in nature on a larger scale; by what pow-
erful effects it is accompanied, we propose to show in the
next chapter.
CHAPTEK VIII.
[LATENT HEAT PRODUCES COLD; FREE HEAT, WARMTH.
HE who considers how water when heated is trans-
formed into steam, and how this steam has absorbed the
whole portion of heat that was necessary to form it, will
easily understand, that places where vapor is formed must
become cooler. Just as the fire used for cooking purposes
cannot heat the stove, so that portion of the sun's heat
which changes the water on the surface of the earth into
vapor, cannot heat the earth. Hence it follows, that
wherever water evaporates, the air turns cool, because the
heat, instead of being imparted to the air, is used in form-
ing vapor ; this vapor, then, contains the same portion of
heat that was necessary to form it ; or, scientifically speak-
ing, vapor makes heat latent.
When in summer it is oppressively hot, and a heavy
shower comes, it is often more oppressive during the rain
than before ; but after the rain the weather is, as we call
it, cooled off.
What is the cause of this ? After the rain the surface
of the earth is wet, and the moisture begins to evaporate.
In other words, the rain-water changes again into vapor.
To do this, heat is necessary, and is withdrawn from the
air and from the surface of the earth; by this means air
and earth become cool.
It is very agreeable during the summer-time to have the
streets of cities sprinkled with water, and it is also very
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LATENT HEAT PRODUCES COLD, ETC. 91
healthy, because the evaporation of the sprinkled water
renders heat latent, and thus cools off the air.
The reverse, however, may also take place. As the
housewife's hand is scalded when the steam changes on
her hand into water, that is, as the steam by turning into
water again gives up the heat it possessed, just so acts
nature. When vapor in the air turns into rain, it gives up
that portion of heat which it had held latent, and hence it
it is, that 'before a rain or snow-storm the weather turns
warmer.
When in winter it suddenly turns a little warm, that is,
when the cold suddenly diminishes, we know that it is go-
ing to snow. The only reason why it has become warm is
this, that in the air above, vapor has changed into snow,
thus giving up its heat, the benefit of which we feel. Thus
in summer-time, when the sun becomes fiercest, people
say " The sun draws water, it will rain." The truth is,
that the vapors in the air change into water, and thus give
up their heat; people now think the sun has become hotter.
Another consequence of this phenomenon is the fact,
that in countries where there is much water, the air in sum-
mer is much cooler, because a great deal of water evapo-
rates there, by which means heat is absorbed or made la-
tent. In winter the air in such countries is warmer, be-
cause much vapor is changed into water; thus heat becomes
free.
It is evident that all this has a great influence upon the
weather — an influence that may be calculated even in ad-
vance.
To state an example : The positions of Berlin and Lon-
don are such, that the summer-heat and the winter-cold
ought to be equal in both places. But because England
is an island in the ocean, that is, surrounded by large
masses of water, the evaporation of water is in London
much greater; hence the summer there is cooler. For the
92 METEOROLOGY.
same reason rain and fog are much more frequent there,
and the winter, consequently, is less severe.
In the course of this work we shall see how similar con-
ditions have very great influence upon whole countries,
and therefore often cause, contrary to the rule, cold sum-
mers and warm winters.
CHAPTEE IX.
RULES ABOUT THE WEATHER, AND DISTURBANCES OF
THE SAME.
IF we cast a glance upon the phenomena of our atmos-
phere, we find that they are indeed computable, and that
the weather in general may be foretold, even for large coun-
tries, with some degree of certainty. Nay, there are coun-
tries where the weather is not variable at all, but changes
at regular periods and according to fixed rules.
In countries near the equator, where the sun's heat is
very strong, heat, calm, and dryness prevail during the
summer-time. This state of the atmosphere continues unin-
terruptedly until winter; nor can there be any frost there in
winter, because even then the sun's rays fall with but little
obliquity upon the surface of the earth. But inasmuch as
the sun no longer heats the earth to the same degree, the
air ceases to retain the same amount of heat, and as a
great deal of cold air is constantly passing in from the
poles, the vapor spoken of above is, at that season of the
year, changed back into water. Thus, winter there is
merely a long, uninterrupted rainy season.
We see that for the warmer countries the rules of tem-
perature are pretty constant and sure; there one is not sur-
prised by irregularities of weather such as occur with us.
Summer brings heat, calm, arid dryness ; winter, east winds,
thunder-storms, and continual rain. The rain once ceasing,
the sun reappears in a few days, and everything begins to
bloom again.
This holds good only for the countries near the equator.
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94 METEOROLOGY.
The further you go towards the poles, the more varied be-
come summer and winter, the length of day and night,
heat and cold, and consequently, also, the condition of the
atmosphere and of the weather proper.
A glance upon the map will convince any one, that it
is with us that the weather is most changeable. The rea-
sons for this may now be more closely examined. Our
country lies nearly half way between the pole and the
equator. From our pole we constantly receive a cold
wind, the north wind. And above, in the atmosphere, a
warm wind, the south wind, goes continually from the
equator to the pole. Through the rotation of the earth
around its axis from west to east, the north wind becomes
an easterly, that is, a northeast wind; and the south
wind in the upper atmosphere becomes a westerly, or south-
west wind. The former, coming from cold countries, car-
ries no vapor with it; hence, during northeast wind we
have clear sky, or sunshine, but without heat. If this
wind occurs in winter, it brings us dry frost; in daytime
the sun shines splendidly, at night the stars sparkle bril-
liantly; yet our breath freezes on our lips. The same wind
when prevailing in the first days of spring, causes us, in
spite of the glaring sun, to feel considerably cold in the
shade.
And it is but natural that it should be so.
The wind comes from the north ; there ice and snow are
just melting, and the sun's heat being employed for this
" melting business," the air cannot receive much of it.
This kind of weather would be regular with us; but, as
we know already, the heated upper air flows from the equa-
tor to the north pole; now we live in the very region where
this upper air, in its descent towards the poles, at times
touches the surface of the earth, thus causing warm cur-
rents of air, which occasionally are followed by cold ones.
Near the equator the cold current of air moves below
RULES ABOUT THE WEATHER, ETC. 95
and the warm one above; while in our regions, both cur-
rents meet near the surface of the earth, struggle with
each other, seek to repel one another, rush and roll in all
directions over the land, and bring us such varieties of
weather as will exasperate all weather prophets, and
greatly increase the difficulty of scientific solutions in me-
teorology.
In the next chapter we shall endeavor to prove that this
state of affairs, together with the situation of our country,
are the main causes of the changeableness of our weather.
CHAPTEE X.
THE CHANGEABLENESS OF THE WEATHER WITH REGARD
TO OUR GEOGRAPHICAL POSITION.
WE have endeavored to explain why our weather is so
uncertain and incomputable. As we have seen, it has its
origin in this, that in our regions the warmer equatorial
currents of air no longer move above the colder ones, but
that they descend here, and pursue their northern course
alongside and opposing the colder currents. This often
gives rise to a struggle between cold and warm currents.
In summer we witness such combats very frequently. The
sky is at first bright; the sun sends down his most power-
ful rays ; in the shade we are refreshed by a strong
draught, which keeps the sky clear, and free from clouds.
Suddenly there comes a calm. Even in the shade the heat
now becomes intolerable. The trees stand immovable ; no
leaflet stirs. The complete calm becomes unendurable,
and causes anxiety. "Always a calm before a storm,"
say the people, and hasten to seek shelter in their houses —
and well 1 for it is not long before a counter wind com-
mences to blow. The weathercock turns round, the dust
in the streets is whirled up in eddies, and here and there
rises in clouds to the house-tops. Suddenly clouds are
seen to form themselves; the trees shake their crowns;
the leaves rustle, and before one is aware of it, we have
storm, thunder, and violent rain, which cool off the earth.
Whence came this weather; more especially, whence
came the calm preceding it, and the whirlwind following ?
There were two opposite currents of air, which for a time
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THE CHANGEABLENESS OF THE WEATHER. 91
avoided each other, but at length met over our heads.
Each current at first pressed on the other with equal force,
so that they mutually were brought to a stand-still; this
we called a calm. But such an equilibrium does not last
long, for one current must in the end overcome the other ;
they whirl through one another, raise the dust in high col-
umns, seize the trees and give them a thorough shaking.
The cold current changes the vapor of the warm current
into clouds, then into rain. The pouring down rain imme-
diately sets free the heat. At this stage electrical phe-
nomena are witnessed, such as lightnings, claps of thun-
der, and concussions of the air. And this continues until
one current of air has carried the victory over the other;
not till then does the weather become quiet again.
Besides these opposing currents of air, which come from
the north and south, there are other causes disturbing our
weather, viz., the geographical position of our country in
regard to the east and west.
A glance on the map reminds us that our continent bor-
ders, on the east and west, on that immense waste of
water, the ocean. We know now that the air above the
water is always saturated with vapors, while the air over
the land is comparatively dry. And moist air contains
heat, dry air does not; both, however, are continually tend-
ing towards equilibrium and wish to exchange tempera-
tures from each other. As our dry air is surrounded on
both sides by moist air, it is evident that we must more or
less partake of both heat and cold; but it moreover ac-
counts for the happy circumstance that we have much rain;
hence our soil is well watered, and this is a blessing to any
country.
CHAPTEE XI.
ABOUT THE DIFFICULTY AND POSSIBILITY OF DETER-
MINING- THE WEATHER.
HAVING now explained the rules referring to the condi-
tions of our weather, and proved that owing to the geo-
graphical position of our country, to determine the weather
in advance, is difficult, we wish to examine this difficulty
a little more closely in pointing out the wrong direction
which has hitherto been pursued in the science of meteor-
ology.
The main difficulty in predicting the weather for any
given place consists in this, that a change in the atmos-
phere need not originate in the place where it occurs. Thus,
to-morrow's weather in New York is not a consequence of
the condition of the air as it exists there to-day ; for the
air is continually moving, and, owing to many disturb-
ances, is carried over city and country: We have no sure
means of ascertaining whence the wind will come to us to-
morrow. All we know is, that from all sides currents of
air are moving simultaneously; from the north pole a cold
current, from the equator a warm one, from the ocean one
saturated with moisture. All these winds are in continual
commotion, and have the characteristics of the neighbor-
hood from which they come. If from the state of the
weather in New York to-day it were desired to predict the
weather there for to morrow, one ought to be able to over-
look a space of about a thousand miles around; in other
words, it must first be ascertained what is the state of the
atmosphere within about a thousand miles of the city. Be-
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DIFFICULTY OF DETERMINING THE WEATHER.
sides, there should be known the direction of all the winds
within this wide space, and their speed, and whether they
contain much moisture or little. Not without this infor-
mation could a calculation be made about the velocity with
which a change of the weather would take place in New
York; what results the meeting- of two or more currents
of air might call forth; and what kind of weather this
might produce there.
Weather, therefore, for the present state of meteorology,
is but a subject of investigation into the existing condition
of existing phenomena, and not a subject of prediction of
coming phenomena. It is true, there are general rules by
which a proximate success in predicting may be obtained.
If winter begins mild, or, better, if southwest winds and
rain prevail till the middle of January, it is very likely
that this will be counterbalanced by a northeast wind in
the latter part of the winter. The saying, therefore, is cor-
rect, " green Christmas and white Easter;" but this rule is
by no means infallible, the counteraction may be accel-
erated by violent storms, or greatly retarded by mild cur-
rents of air.
Not before the time that meteorological stations are es-
tablished throughout the land, and connected by electric
telegraphs — a project which to us may seem immense, but
to our children will appear very simple and natural — not
before that time will a city like New York, for example,
receive timely information about the conditions of the cur-
rents of air at all the stations. At each of these places
the force of the current, its warmth, moisture, and weight
will be accurately ascertained by instruments. Then, and
then only, we may calculate what currents will meet and
where, and what effects the meeting will have. If this be
done on Saturday, the Sunday papers will be enabled to
state precisely whether the church-goers must provide
themselves with umbrellas or parasols.
100 METEOROLOGY.
But not for Sunday alone will this be of importance. It
will be long after their establishment, that such weather-
stations, connected by telegraphs, will prove their real
efficiency and blessing; and our descendants, perhaps, will
wonder how we could live without an institution, which to
them will appear as simple and natural as do to us gaslights
and railroads, which by our forefathers would have been
rejected as idle dreams or works of witchcraft.
CHAPTEE XII.
THE FALSE WEATHER-PROPHETS.
WE wish to speak here a few words about the false
methods, that have hitherto been applied to the investi-
gation and foretelling of the weather.
The weather prophecies of the almanac are a disgrace
to our advanced age. Those who still print them deserve
that their productions should nowhere find sale. We are
not of those who expect everything of the magistrates
and their orders; but an example should be set to prevent
the publishers from dishing up to the people such absurd-
ities.
Some of these wily prophets pretend to read their pre-
dictions in the course of the planets. For this purpose,
they have divided the planets into two classes, according
to their positions in regard to the earth and sun : 1st,
those that produce cold, and 2d, those that produce heat.
By this means they pretend to prophesy how many de-
grees of heat or cold there will be every day at sunrise
or sunset
When critically analyzed, these prophecies prove to be
theoretically and practically nothing but charlatanry.
It is beyond all doubt that the position of the planets is,
to state an example, for Boston the same as for the city of
Washington ; if there are any heat or cold-producing
planets, they would have the same effect at Boston that
they would at Washington. But this is not the case.
Boston has often cold weather when in Washington it is
very warm, and vice versa. Besides such a heating or cool-
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102 METEOROLOGY.
ing influence of planets would be perceivable on every
spot of the earth alike which again is not warranted by
facts. On the contrary it often happens that when cold
winds are passing over one part of the country, warm
winds are passing over another. It is almost certain that
cold winters in Europe always accompany warm winters
in America; and again, that cold winters in America usu-
ally accompany warm ones in Europe. On a closer ex-
amination of the facts in the case, we must conclude that,
on the whole, weather-prophets take things very easy.
Noting the mean heat of each day, and trusting to their
good luck, they prophesy one or two degrees above or
below. Now, there is no great risk in doing this, and as a
matter of course such prophecies are realized one out of
two. But at times, almanacs announce an extraordinary
increase of cold or heat for a given day, although the situ-
ation of the planets does not change suddenly in one day.
Then, their predictions very seldom prove to be correct.
In such cases the almanac-makers know how to manage
affairs. The country being very large, they send for in-
formation to those places where observations on the
weather are made. It is almost certain that somewhere
in the land their prophesy has come true. Very likely the
cold may have increased extraordinarily in the course of
a day at New York, Boston, Chicago, Cincinnati, or St.
Louis, etc., afterwards the weather-prophets compare their
predictions with the results of observation in the various
cities, and publish whatever of them are found to have
been true.
CHAPTEE XIII.
HAS THE MOON INFLUENCE UPON THE WEATHER ?
THE idea that the moon exercises an influence upon the
state of the weather is very general, not only with the
people, but also among the better educated. What in-
duces them to entertin it, is not real observation of na-
ture, but a belief which is not without a semblance of
truth. If, they say, the moon has enough influence upon
our waters to produce tides, it must exercise a still
greater influence upon the sea of air surrounding us, and
hence it must be of the greatest importance to our weather.
This is, however, an illusion. A long time ago it was
proved by Laplace, that tides are caused by the great
weight of a liquid. If the ocean were filled with mercury
instead of water, the tides would reach a formidable height.
Tides, then, do exist in the atmosphere, but in comparison
much less than in the water, because the air is so much
lighter. It happens that we do not live on the surface of
the atmosphere, but in the lowest strata of this airy sea ;
and in these strata, where the weather manifests itself, the
effect of the tides in the upper air is so insignificant, that
nothing of it has yet been discovered in spite of most dili-
gent barometer observations.
Learned men have had such a respect for this popular
belief, that thorough observations and investigations have
been made in order to settle the question.
These investigations were of three kinds:
1st. What influence with regard to heat ana cold has
the nearness or remoteness of the moon upon our weather ?
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104 METEOROLOGY.
2d. What influence nas the same upon rain or aryness in
the atmosphere ? 3d. Has the change of the moon any
bearing upon the variability of our weather ?
For the reply to these questions, some naturalists have
made use of the minutest observations for a period of near-
ly forty years; during which time the temperature, pres-
sure, and moisture of the air have been measured daily.
These observations have been scrupulously examined;
the conclusion arrived at is, that the moon is not quite
without influence upon the state of our atmosphere ; but
this influence is so very small, that it is not brought to
bear at all on meteorology.
When the moon is nearest to the earth, it is certainly a
little colder than when she is farther off ; but the decrease
of heat amounts in the average scarcely to one-fifth of a
degree, and this is a quantity entirely imperceptible in
our weather. As to rain, it is a little less frequent in the
time of the moon's greatest distance from the earth ; but
this difference, too, is imperceptibly small. In one thou-
sand rain-storms there are four hundred and eighty-eight
during the moon's greatest distance, five hundred and
twelve during her nearest. As to the pressure of the air,
it is during the moon's greater distance somewhat greater
than when she is nearer, but this difference is still less
than the preceding ones, so much so that a common barom-
eter does not even indicate it.
The most thorough investigations have been made about
the influence of the waxing and waning moon upon the
weather, because it was on this subject that the greatest
illusion prevailed. The result here is likewise, that
scarcely any difference exists, and that it is a mere super-
'Btition for people to maintain, that when the moon changes,
the weather changes also. The change in the moon, more-
over, does not take place all of a sudden, but with great
regularity from day to day, from minute to minute; while
HAS THE MOON INFLUENCE UPON THE WEATHER? 105
the weather, especially with us, changes often very ab-
ruptly.
It is therefore certain, that in meteorology one has only
to observe the earth and her position with regard to the
sun, together with the currents of air and the position of
land and water. Other phenomena of the atmosphere may
be entirely omitted.
PART VII.
OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
CHAPTEE I.
THE RAPID RENEWAL OF THE BLOOD IS AN ADVANTAO-E.
OUR articles of food are also called articles of life, and
very properly so; for that which lives in us is, indeed,
nothing but food transformed into ourselves.
According- to this, it is very easy to determine what a
man must eat in order to live; what kind of food can best
maintain his health; what constantly renews his working-
power; what compensates for the loss he experiences by
emission of breath, perspiration, and excretions.
This easy task many have proposed to themselves. They
believe they have solved the problem, if they can but
prove that all parts of the human body are fed by the
blood; and, the constituents of the blood being well known,
they believe they have done enough, if they designate that
food as the most proper for man which contains the con-
stituent parts of the blood, or which, by digestion, maybe
changed into blood.
As a general thing this is true; yet it is not sufficient to
give the necessary information about the principal articles
of our food.
The poor Irishman, who lives almost exclusively on po-
tatoes, has as much blood in his body as the Englishman,
whose workmen threaten him with a strike, if they do not
earn enough to have a piece of meat and a good glass of
beer for breakfast. The Irishman's blood contains quite
the same elements that the Englishman's does, and yet their
food is very different; and the Irishman is as justly called
" poor," as the Englishman is said to be " well fed."
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110 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
It is evident that the blood alone does not account for
this, nor can it do so. There must be other additional
items; and these we shall try to learn before we speak of
the different articles of food and their worth.
The first principle which we must set up before all others,
runs thus : Nutrition does noj^ depend on the blood, but
rather on its quick renewal.
The blood resembles the capital which a man possesses.
No one can live on his capital without consuming it; he
must live on the interest of the capital; he must live by
constantly turning1 the capital over. And so must it be
with the blood. The comparison seems so perfect, that we
can illustrate our idea best by an example.
Imagine two merchants, each of whom has but a hundred
dollars. Both merchants are therefore equally rich in cap-
ital. But there is the following difference between them :
the one goes to the country twice a week and buys cattle
and brings it to market, where he sells it again. By doing
this he realizes every time five dollars on his capital. The
other establishes a notion-store, buys himself a hundred
dollars' worth of goods, which he sells in a month, and
thereby gains twenty-five dollars. Now, which of these
two fares the better ? The notion-dealer, who with his hun-
dred dollars has earned twenty-five dollars, or the cattle-
dealer, who gained but five ? Most assuredly the cattle-
dealer. For while the other has twenty-five dollars to live
on, the cattle-dealer has eight times five, or forty dollars.
Whence does this come ? In a month the notion-dealer
turns over his capital but once, while the cattle-dealer
turns his eight times.
The same holds good with the Irishman and the English-
man. Both have the same quantity of blood; it is their
capital, and the same for both. But the renewal is not the
same. The Englishman works vigorously and eats vigor,
ously. When he works, he spends his capital, his blood;
RAPID RENEWAL OF THE BLOOD IS AN ADVANTAGE. Ill
by every blow of the hammer particles of his body are
wasted; the activity of his body is great and his appetite
is great. He invests his capital again and again in rapid
succession, and he takes it in just as rapidly and fares well
with it. The poor, unhappy Irishman, however, spends his
blood but very slowly ; he does not work ; he eats potatoes,
which, taken alone, are bad food; thus, he invests his capi-
tal very slowly and takes it in again very slowly; and
though the capital is in both cases the same, its slow re-
newal is the cause of the Irishman's being miserable, dull,
and lazy, while the Englishman is sound in body and soul.
Therefore the blood alone is not all, but its rapid con-
sumption and renewal is the most important object.
CHAPTEB II.
DIGESTION.
IN the preceding article we said that the rapid conver-
sion and waste of the blood is the main point in nutrition
In the examination of food, only such articles ought to be
pronounced good and healthy, as are capable of rapidly
replacing the blood lost by work and vital activity. It
follows from this, that our chemists do not do enough,
when they examine the food and determine its worth
merely according to its contents ; articles of food must be
studied also in reference to the rapidity and ease with
which they may be converted into blood.
An article that contains little of what the blood needs,
but which converts that little rapidly and easily into
blood, is much preferable to food which contains many of
the constituent parts of the blood, but turns into blood very
slowly and with difficulty.
An example will illustrate this better :
It has been proved chemically, that the husks of grain,
the pure bran, contain a remarkably large quantity of
vegetable albumen and fat; in this particular, bran is richer
than even flour, and a distinguished chemist, Millon, in
Paris, in 1849, created quite a sensation by his earnest ad-
monition to use bran no longer only to feed cattle, but to
use it mixed with flour, as food for man. He calculated
minutely and proved irrefutably, that such food must be
considered a great advantage, a real blessing.
Although his investigations and computations were cor-
rect, it has since been shown that his proposition is false.
In his capacity of a chemist he was right; but the stomach
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DIGESTION. 1 13
has not as much time and patience as a studious chemist.
Notwithstanding bran contains much that the blood can
use, yet it is of no avail so long- as our digestive appa-
ratus is not organized to perform the change of the bran
into blood rapidly and easily. If bran leaves our body
undigested, which happens even to the strongest, then
it is certainly more judicious to give it to cattle ; they
can digest it well, grow fat and strong upon it, and give
us meat, fat, and milk in return.
There is another truth we must constantly keep in
view ; it is this : Of two like articles of food, the better
and more advantageous one to us is that which is di-
gested, or better, converted into blood, the more easily
and quickly.
And there is a third truth, which must not be omitted.
Let no one for a moment believe, that a great variety
of food is something unimportant and indifierent ; on the
contrary, investigations have shown that uniform food
is hurtful, while a constant change is very beneficial to
nutrition and health.
Nor must we neglect, by way of conclusion, to men-
tion a very important item, viz. : that taste comes in
for a large share, and that a judicious assortment and
seasoning of the food is an essential part of good nu-
trition. The husband provides for his wife, it is true; but,
on the other hand, the good housewife who prepares
healthy, tasteful meals, does in truth perform a great ser-
vice, and contributes more to the working power of her
husband, than most of men are aware.
After these few preliminaries, we will speak now of the
articles themselves; in doing so, we shall keep within the
limits of practical life, though we run the risk of trans-
gressing here and there into the domain of our good
housewives, and of meddling with what, according to their
idea, is not our business.
CHAPTEE III.
COFFEE.
WE come now to consider the various articles of food
in detail. We shall take for guide neither the luxurious
life of the rich, who, on account of his disordered stomach,
constantly tickles his palate with dainties; nor the miser
able life of the poor, who, on account of his empty stom-
ach, is bound to find everything palatable. We wish
rather to take into consideration the food of that class of
people in which the husband works hard to support his
family; and where the wife is a good housewife, and cares
for the health and strength of her husband and children.
In other words, we wish to consider the kind of food called
household fare, and speak of the meals as taken every day.
It is customary with most to take coffee in the morning.
Now, what are the qualities of coffee ? Is coffee an arti-
cle of food ? Or is it a beverage merely to quench the
thirst ? Is it a means of warming ? Or is it a spice ?
Medicine ? Or perhaps poison ?
It is strange that science has not yet reached the truth
about these questions.
Coffee has been chemically analyzed, and has been found
to contain a peculiar element, caffeine, which has an abun-
dance of nitrogen. It is remarkable also that tea has been
found to contain an element called theine, which has the
same quantity of nitrogen,
As in some countries tea replaces coffee — this is espe-
cially the case in Russia, Holland, England, and America —
the great and ingenious naturalist Liebig has come
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COFFEE.
115
to the conclusion that it is* nitrogen which constitutes the
chief value of tea and coffee as articles of food ; and as our
blood needs nitrogen, in order to be able to form our mus-
cles and flesh, coffee, according to Liebig, must be counted
among the articles of food.
In later times this view has been attacked. Although
it is true that nitrogen is very abundant in coffee, and that
we need nitrogen to form muscles, yet it can never be the
nitrogen which incites us to the enjoyment of coffee. It is
the berry of the coffee that contains the nitrogen ; a part
of it escapes during the process of roasting ; a great part
is thrown away with the coffee-grounds, so that the quan-
tity of nitrogen actually left in the infusion is exceeding-
ly small. Besides, if we enjoy in coffee only the nitrogen,
we pay very high for it.
In the United States, annually about two hundred
and fifty millions of pounds of coffee are used.; the cost
is estimated at twenty-five millions of dollars. Since the
coffee itself is not consumed, but only the infusion, it fol-
lows that about 100,000 pounds of nitrogen are consumed
at a cost of 250 millions of dollars, which is a terrible
waste, considering that for this money seven times as
much nitrogen could be taken, if, instead of coffee, meat
were used, which contains also a large quantity of nitro-
gen.
The natural sciences,therefore, show among their scholars
professed enemies of coffee. They are, from a medical as
well as economical point of view, decidedly opposed to its
use. Some have even gone so far as to declare it poison-
ous ; a naturalist by name of Zobel proved that it con-
tains Prussic acid, one of the deadliest poisons. Fortu-
nately we know that this Prussic acid is rendered ineffect-
ual by the ammoniac which coffee contains, and which is
used as an antidote against Prussic acid.
Be this as it may, we have reason to esteem coffee very
116 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
highly. A beverage which has become such a necessity
to every nation, is of great importance ; and the instinct
with which millions and millions of our fellow-men are
drawn to its enjoyment, is the best proof that the use
of coffee is not hurtful, but advantageous to man ; not-
withstanding the fact that in some diseases it is for-
bidden, and that science has not yet succeeded in
showing us the real advantage of coffee as a means of
food.
CHAPTEE IV.
COFFEE AS A MEDICINE.
Itf recent times coffee has been considered, not as an ar-
ticle of food, but partly as a spice and partly as a kind of
medicine. Spice it is, inasmuch as it causes, like many
other spices, the stomach to secrete an increased quantity
of gastric juice. Digestion only takes place when the
sides of the stomach secrete a liquid having the quality of
digesting food. Owing to this, well-to-do people take
after dinner a cup of coffee in order to promote digestion.
It is because at night the power of digesting is very much
enfeebled — hence the bad sleep after one has eaten some-
thing difficult to digest — and because the stomach is re-
laxed and inactive, that a cup of coffee in the morning
refreshes and stimulates the coats of the stomach, and
causes there renewed vigor and activity. It is a common
observation, that more appetite is felt after coffee than be-
fore it. So much for the importance of coffee as a spice.
Very justly we ascribe to coffee also a medicinal influence;
we consider it a medicine for our mental activity, and for
the activity of the nerves.
It is well known that at night coffee dispels fatigue, and
that by the use of strong coffee sleep may be banished for
a long time. And more; those that are busy mentally,
often feel a fresh, invigorating impulse after the enjoyment
of coffee; when fatigued with work, they make it a means
to recruit their strength. For a similar reason, coffee can
animate conversation. When we meet elderly ladies in
society, and notice them sitting quietly and talking but in
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118 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
monosyllables, we need not be surprised; they have had
no coffee yet ! But when, after a little, conversation
flows with full force like a rapid stream of water, we
may from this safely recognize the mighty influence of
coffee; it has loosened not only the tongues, but more —
the looks, the hands, nay, the whole body and the whole
soul.
Although the mind has rested during the night, we feel
in the morning rather sleepy than otherwise, and hence it
is, that we are every morning desirous of stimulating our
nervous system with a cup of coffee, preparing, as it were,
our mind for the day's work. A modern naturalist, as
genial as he is learned, Moleschott, ascribes the lately in-
creased consumption of coffee to the greater degree of
mental activity, which life in former times did not require
to such a high extent as our present age.
We have now sufficiently explained the need of coffee-
drinking, and we must confess that all we have said here
does not in the least affect our conviction that, according
to Liebig, coffee is also nutritive. And no one can help
believing this who has seen how old people can subsist on
but very little food, provided they can have plenty of
coffee. The objection raised, that it would be better for
these persons to take the nitrogen contained in coffee in
the form of meat, is correct; but, on the other hand, we
must stop to ask, whether meat would be good for the
stomach at all such times as a cup of coffee is 1 This
would certainly not be the case early in the morning; and
if in the coffee we enjoy a beverage which gives us nutri-
ment, strengthens the stomach and at the same time stim-
ulates our mind, we have good reasons to reverence the
instinct of man which raised coffee to an essential means
of subsistence, and discovered its beneficial influence long
before this was done by science.
CHAPTEK V.
USEFULNESS AND HUBTFUL.NESS OF COFFEE.
SINCE coffee possesses the quality of stimulating the
nervous system, it is a matter of course that in many cases
its effect is rather injurious. Phlegmatic people, especially,
need coffee, and they are fond of drinking it ; for a similar
reason it is a favorite beverage in the Orient, where its
consumption is immense. But to persons of an excitable
temperament the enjoyment of coffee is hurtful; they ought
only to take it very weak. With lively children it does
not agree at all, and it is very wrong to force them to
drink it, as is often done; while elderly people, who are in
need of a stimulant for the decreasing activity of their
nerves, are right in taking as much of it as they choose.
In households of limited means it is often customary
to use succory with coffee. We do not pretend to pro-
nounce this, if taken in moderate quantity, hurtful; but
we do say, that it is a poor substitute for coffee, and that
there is nothing in it to recommend its use. A far better
mixture is milk and sugar, and there is good reason for it;
both milk and sugar are articles of food. Milk contains
the same ingredients as blood, and sugar is changed in
the body into fat, which is indispensable to us, especially
to the process of breathing. Having taken no food through
the night, the loss our blood has suffered during sleep by
perspiration, and the fat which has been lost by respira-
tion, must be compensated for in the morning. For this,
•lilk and sugar in coffee are excellent. It is good for
Children to have a taste for sweetened milk, or milk-coffee,
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120 OUR ARHCLES OF FOOD.
in the morning. We must not find fault with them if they
like it. Nature very wisely gave them a liking for sugar;
they need it, because their pulse must be quicker, their
respiration stronger, in order to facilitate the assimilation
of food in their bodies, and also to promote growth. Not
that adults need no sugar; but the sugar necessary for
them is formed from the starch contained in their food. For
this purpose the digestive apparatus must be strongly de-
veloped; with children this is not the case; therefore they
are given sugar, instead of the starch to make it from.
Many diseases, particularly rickets — prevailing mostly
among the children of the poor — are the consequence of
feeding the child with bread and potatoes ; these contain
starch it is true, but the digestive apparatus of children
being yet too weak to change them into fat, the result is
that the flesh falls away, and the bones grow soft and
crooked.
But he who, to promote digestion, takes coffee imme-
diately after dinner, does best not to use sugar or milk ; for
both, so far from helping digestion, are an additional bur-
den to the full stomach, and disturb its labor more than
the coffee can facilitate it.
It is very good to take wheat bread for breakfast. Wheat
has nearly twice the quantity of sugar and starch that
rye contains, and it is besides easier to digest. And as it
is our principal duty in the morning to replace as quickly
as possible what we have lost during the night, it is a mat-
ter of importance to give the stomach such food as is both
nutritive and quickly digested.
CHAPTEE VI.
BREAKFAST.
WORKMEN, even those who must perform hard labor, are
sufficiently strengthened by coffee and wheat bread in the
morning to begin their work. But to be able to continue
it, a more substantial breakfast is necessary, since coffee
and bread alone would only replace what was lost during
the night. On the continent of Europe it is therefore the
custom to take coffee, or milk, and bread very early, and,
at about nine or ten o'clock a more substantial meal, a
kind of lunch.
Breakfast is with but few the principal meal of the day;
for those, however, who rise early it is the one taken with
the best appetite. This fact ought to induce all to give at-
tention to this meal; especially those who early in the
morning have worked hard already, and those who, mind-
ful of the old saying,
" Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise,"
intend not to idle away the precious morning hours.
To him who is in the habit of laboring, and who loves to
labor, an early breakfast has a peculiar charm; and, what
is yet more important to him, it tastes well. It is cus-
tomary with us to eat much bread. Bread has as its prin-
cipal constituents, starch and sugar, and if it has been well
baked, a part of the starch is already saccharine, that is,
it is nearly transformed into sugar, thus greatly facili-
tating the process of digestion. French naturalists have
lately written excellent treatises about the change which
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122 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
fresh bread undergoes when it becomes old. They prove
that bread is most nutritive, and easiest to digest, when
about a day old.
Bread is changed in our bodies partly into fat, as all
food is which contains starch. But this formation of fat
is greatly facilitated, if we take a little ready-made fat
with it. For this purpose we eat butter with our bread.
Hence we see that some people are wrong when they be-
lieve butter to be a mere luxury; on the contrary, butter
is a very important article of food, more especially so to
children.
The reason of this is, that the fat performs a conspicu-
ous part in the human body; it serves to keep up the pro-
cess of respiration. The oxygen which is inhaled, decom-
poses the fat in our body and from it forms water and
carbonic acid. The water evaporates through perspira-
tion; the carbonic acid is exhaled again. Now, if there is
fat in us, this perspiration and exhalation will diminish it;
but this very act of using up the fat preserves our flesh
from being consumed in the process of producing carbonic
acid and perspiration, which, if there were no fat, would
greatly weaken us. Fat, thus to speak, is the spare-money,
while flesh is the capital in the body. Fat itself does not
make us strong, while flesh does. But where there is no
fat, the processes of perspiration and respiration attack
our flesh, which, unless abundantly reinforced, begins to
disappear rapidly, while our strength begins to decrease
more and more.
Thence it comes that lean persons eat much, while we
often are astonished to see how little food is taken by fat
people. The lean one has no fat to meet the drain pro-
duced by perspiration and respiration ; he breathes and
perspires accordingly at the expense of his flesh, and, there-
fore, is obliged to continually take in a fresh supply of food.
The fat person, meanwhile, does not live on his capital,
BREAKFAST. 123
the flesh and the blood, but on his supply of fat; as it were,
he pays expenses from his spare-money, and for this reason
loses very little in strength.
From what has preceded, it follows that he who breathes
much and perspires much when at work, must eat much
fat-producing food, and besides add a little ready-made fat;
while he who breathes and perspires little, needs but little
of that kind of food. This accounts for the circumstance
that in winter, when the air is denser, and therefore one
inhales more oxygen and thus uses more fat for exhalation,
we must eat more fat food; while in summer every one
takes less of it. We know that in cold countries food is
taken which, on account of its containing great quantities
of fat, would in hot climates produce sickness.
A hearty worker perspires much at his labor, and, in
consequence of his increased activity, breathes more than
the quiet and sedentary; he must therefore eat with his
breakfast some fat — bacon, etc. — because this enables him
to prevent his flesh and blood from decreasing. His body
will be strong and powerful, and he will at all times be
able to earn with his arm more than his stomach costs
him.
But let no one believe, therefore, that fat alone is a means
of food, and, above all, beware of the mistake that read}7'-
made fat is healthier to eat than fat-producing articles.
Fine experiments have been made about the feeding of ani-
mals with fat. The results have shown that fat taken alone
is injurious, and goes off" again without having been of
any use to the body; while, on the other hand, fat-pro-
ducing food greatly assists the fattening of animals.
-He who has seen how geese are fattened, will have a cor-
rect idea about the process of the formation of fat in the
human body. A handful of dough is forced into the mouth
and gullet of the goose; during the time of her fattening
she is shut up in so close a space that she can neither rise
124 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
nor walk about. The poor creature is thus deprived of
evaporation by perspiration; the process of breathing is
rendered very difficult; and, because she breathes and per-
spires little, her fat does not change into carbonic acid and
water, but collects in the body in an unusual manner, until
finally the creature is relieved from her pains by being
killed. We see that her fat is nothing else than the trans-
formed starch of the dough, which remained in the body
without being used. If we should try, however, to feed a
goose on pure fat only, she would not fatten at all, but fall
sick. Pure fat must only be taken together with fat-pro-
ducing food. The cause of this is, that only a part of the
intestines secretes a juice which can dissolve fat; while
the gastric juice in the stomach does not dissolve the fat at
all, but allows it to float on the surface, as fat does in
water.
Our readers will now find it natural that a workman who
perspires and breathes much, should by all means take
but little bacon for breakfast; and this he must eat only
on those days when he has much work before him; and
then he must not eat it without bread.
CHAPTEE VII.
LIQUOR.
Is it advisable to take a " drink" before breakfast ?
This is a question of the greatest importance, and re-
quires a very clear and impartial answer; for which our
space is almost too limited.
Liquor is no article of food; if for a moment it were
considered as such, we should find that it is even less nu-
tritious than water with sugar in it. What makes liquor
a necessary article, especially so to the working-classes,
is a certain quality it possesses, a quality just as danger-
ous as it is good.
Liquor is a favorite beverage because of the alcohol it
contains; this is nothing else than sugar which has under-
gone fermentation. Alcohol may be made from all those
plants from which starch can be obtained; for, by the
proper process, starch may be changed into gluten, gluten
into sugar, and sugar into alcohol. Alcohol therefore con-
veys more nutriment to the human body than sugar itself,
while it has qualities that the sugar does not possess, and
which make it an article as popular as it is dangerous. If
taken in small quantities, alcohol affects the body like
medicine; in large portions, like poison. We are therefore
not surprised if partly we cannot do without it, and if, on
the other hand, we hear it condemned every day. What
makes its enjoyment so very dangerous is, that although
it is no article of food, it offers to the hungry a kind of
substitute for food, and, what is wor«se, a substitute which
is often the cheapest, and of most rapid effect in regard to
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126 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
quieting one's appetite. It is owing to this that its enjoy-
ment may produce the most fatal and pernicious evils that
ever were inflicted upon unhappy man.
Let us now learn the medicinal qualities of liquor, so
that we may see that it is natural for it to be a favorite;
and by exhibiting the dangers of its enjoyment, we shall
succeed best in showing that people are justified in con-
demning its intemperate use; but it will also be seen that,
in spite of the evident hurtfulness, its entire banishment
would be a foolishness not resulting in good.
Liquor, if taken in a very small dose, possesses the
quality of increasing the quantity of gastric juices. It
excites the sides of the stomach, and by this promotes the
secretion of the juice by which food is dissolved. It often
occurs, that if but a minute quantity of fat has been taken, it
envelops the food in the stomach; and as the gastric juice
dissolves fat only with great difficulty, this food often re-
mains undigested in the stomach, and nutrition then is car-
ried on but defectively. Digestion, therefore, may be
greatly improved, if the stomach is so affected as to secrete
a greater quantity of gastric juice; this is often done by
means of spice — for example, by putting a little pepper
upon bacon or ham. The pepper itself does not help dissolve
food, but excites the salivary glands and the stomach, thus
increasing the gastric juice which performs digestion.
If fat has been eaten, the same effect may be produced
by a little liquor. Indeed, it is even preferable to spice;
inasmuch as it contains ether, which alone is able to dis.
solve fat.
Thus we have seen that liquor is a kind of medicine.
And although every one must strive to do without medi-
cine, still he must not condemn it; he should scorn rather
the wantonness which throws itself on the mercy of medi-
cine. It is right to oppose the enjoyment of much fat; but
if once too much of it has been taken, there is no reason
LIQUOR. 127
why we should remonstrate against the medical applica-
tion of a small quantity of liquor. To those who believe
that they see in alcohol the evil spirit himself, it may some
time or other happen, that even they eat a little too much
fat, and then seek relief by taking some patent or other
medicine, dropped on sugar. Most medicines used in such
cases, however, are nothing but mixtures of sulphuric ether
and alcohol; and if alcohol is the evil spirit, he is certainly
not changed into an angel by putting him on sugar.
But liquor has yet another effect of great importance.
The alcohol it contains is immediately conveyed to the
blood; through this it affects the brain and the nerves, ex-
citing them to increased activity. By also affecting the
nerves of the heart, it accelerates the circulation of the
blood; this produces throughout the body a more rapid
vital activity.
"Wine/5 the Bible says, "maketh glad the heart of
man."
And wine itself is nothing else but an alcohol-combina-
tion. The animating element in wine is the same as the
one in liquor But it makes man's heart glad; which
means as much as, it increases our vital activity ; it rouses;
it strengthens the weary and him who is exhausted bodily
or mentally; it excites the body as well as the mind to more
vigorous action. Taken in very small quantity, liquor has
the same effect. It is therefore not only good for diges-
tion, but also a prompt remedy for exhaustion. The rean-
imation, however, produced by the use of stimulants, is by
no means a real gain; for he who feels tired and weary is
best restored by nature herself. Artificial stimulation is
followed by a greater reaction, by which all is lost again
that has been gained by artificial animation. Yet many
cases occur in human life when there is no time for the
natural restoration of strength lost; thus, when it is pref-
erable to complete one's task without delay, without rest
128 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
until it is finished. In such cases the desire for artificial
stimulants is easily explained; then we ought not to con-
demn a moderate use of them, because that use is neces-
sary.
The wanderer on his travels, the soldier in camp or bat-
tle, have often neither time nor opportunity to refresh
themselves with a meal, or to recruit strength by a good
rest. With them it is important to complete their journey
or task, and to rest afterwards. A common workman may,
at times, be in the same situation. In such cases a little
brandy is of great service. It increases vital activity and
courage; in many countries the army is for this reason
permitted to use liquor, although, of course, sparingly.
Having now spoken of the medicinal use of liquor, we
wish to examine more closely its dangers, and to explain
the reason why its enjoyment is to many so great a temp-
tation as often to become a passion.
A slight quantity of liquor taken at breakfast, makes
one feel increased vital activity. The pulse beats quicker,
the mind is stirred up, digestion easier, and before the food
has been transformed into blood, we feel animated to vig-
orous bodily activity and motion. The enjoyment of spirit
fills the long pause between the meal itself and its change
into blood. He who feels exhausted and eats, has yet but
satisfied the demands of the stomach, without therewith
replenishing his blood. It takes a long time, often from
five to six hours, before the blood is directly benefited. It
is owing to this, that after dinner we do not feel lively,
but inactive, disposed to rest. Now, he who after dinner
cannot rest, but must continue to work, is anxious to stim-
ulate himself by a dram of liquor, because this will act more
quickly than the food he has taken. The spirits he took
fill the long pause which exists between his meal and its
complete transformation into blood.
Is it any longer surprising, that it is the workmen who
LIQUOR. 129
mostly are subject to the use of spirits ? No, we are not
surprised; we feel sorry that they are not taught better;
that instead of imparting to the people a knowledge of
things useful to' the preservation of health, we constantly
remind them of the "devil and hell;" and that in place of
teaching them, by the study of nature, how to avoid errors
and dangers, we merely try to frighten them with future
punishments.
The danger of spirits consists in this, that their good
qualities, their advantageous effects, manifest themselves
immediately, while their evils appear later. Liquor is not
unlike a man whose virtues are laid open to every one;
whose vices, however, are hidden, and who therefore is se.
ductive and dangerous, If we wish to warn our fellow-
men against such a one, we must not do it by denying or
concealing his virtues ; on .the contrary, we must openly
tell all his good qualities; the warning in which we lay
bare his vices, will then be more, all the more readily
heeded.
True, liquor is a medicine; but, like every other medical
remedy, it becomes poisonous in the body of him who puts
himself continually in such a condition as to be obliged to
use it.
He who wishes to preserve his health, must not try to
help nature by artificial means; he will only become weak.
To illustrate this by an example : it is a well-known fact,
that milk contains all the constituent parts of the blood;
but if we were to feed a man merely on milk, those organs
given him by nature to digest solid food, would weaken to
such a degree that he would fall mortally ill. Man is healthy
only when he permits nature the free and unlimited exer-
cise of her functions; if he helps nature too much he may
kill himself. It is similar with the use of liquor. The
person who only now and then corrects nature, that is,
when she actually needs it, is perfectly right. But he
130 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
•%
is very wrong1 and harms himself greatly, who wishes to
assist nature when she needs no help. Unfortunately, the
latter is very often the case, and the prime source of evil.
The ignorant, having once had the experience that brandy
promotes digestion, thinks it is good for him to continue
to help his stomach; but he is greatly mistaken. By ac-
customing his stomach to secrete gastric juice only after
the partaking of brandy, he weakens it; the natural diges-
tion becomes defective through this; and the enjoyment of
spirits, at first a medical remedy, rapidly becomes an in-
dispensable necessity^ with all its evil consequences.
CHAPTER VIII.
INJURIOUSNESS OF DRINKING- LIQUOR.
HE who accustoms his stomach to secrete gastric juice
only after a stimulus effected by spirits, destroys his di-
gestive power. Unhappy man ! He is no longer able to
digest food, unless he stimulate his stomach with liquor.
The already weak stomach is, by this habit, weakened
more and more. Soon a small quantity will no longer suf-
fice ; a larger portion must effect what formerly was done
by the smaller; this goes further and further, until finally
the drinker becomes — a drunkard.
It is well to look at the terrible consequences of such a
condition more closely, to obtain a clear idea of it; and to
examine all the circumstances which unfortunately produce
it, mostly among the poorer and working classes.
The condition of an intoxicated person is to be distin-
guished from that of a regular drunkard. The former has
taken alcohol; it goes into the blood, arrives in the brain,
and excites the nerves to increased action. The nerves of
the heart are also affected by it, and cause violent beating
of the heart and pulse. The blood courses through the
veins and rushes to the brain. This produces illusions of
the senses, and confusion of sensations ; sparks before the
eyes; buzzing in the ears; dizziness, which makes the walk
unsteady; redness of the skin and eyes; increased perspi-
ration; greater activity in the lungs; a shorter and more
rapid breathing; excitement of the mind to anger, and
dimness of the faculties of judgment, causing the inebriate
to believe that he possesses superior strength. If he be-
132 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
gins to move about, these manifestations, and especially
the dizziness, increase; the slightest obstacle in the road
causes him to stumble or fall ; he cannot raise himself to
his feet, nor can he sit up ; but, lying on the ground, he is
unconscious of everything around him; overcome with
complete exhaustion — the effect of the reaction — he at last
falls asleep; but his sleep does not rest him, although, if
sufficiently long, it will restore the unfortunate to con-
sciousness. He now suffers from that peculiar fatigue and
lassitude which usually follow intoxication.
To this abject state every one is brought who in the en-
joyment of spirits loses self-control. It is an unworthy,
disgraceful and disgusting condition; but even the best of
men may once fall into it; all the more so, if he is no ha-
bitual drinker. Strictly speaking, this subject belongs to
another chapter; it belongs to that of intemperance, dis-
soluteness or bad society. If such a calamity has befallen
g^n otherwise good man, let him amend his bodily ache by
a cold bath ; and his moral ache by an earnest vow not to
do the like again.
Far more serious, however, is the lot of the real drunk-
ard. This belongs to the chapter on nutrition, for it is
true, we are sorry to say, that drunkards are produced
mostly through want of proper nutriment; and it is always
the case that constant intemperance is accompanied by
that sickly condition in which the stomach is unable to di-
gest solid food.
In a word, he who has accustomed his stomach to per-
form digestion only after the use of stimulants, has laid
the foundation for drunkenness. With wealthy people, we
know it to be frequently the case, that they take something
"strong" in order to promote digestion; but the danger is
here less great. For if the rich be convinced of his
wrong, even at a late period, he can yet proceed in his re-
form energetically. He can afford to take liquid, easily
INJURIOUSNESS OF DRINKING LIQUOR 133
digestible food instead of solid. He will eat little meat,
but that little very savory and prepared in a manner to be
easily digested. He will choose but light vegetables. He
will flavor his breakfast with caviare and lemon; and at
dinner he will relish rich stewed fruit, by means of which
appetite and digestion are increased. Should he not feel
strengthened immediately after dinner, he has sufficient
time to wait till his food is transformed into blood. He
takes a nap after dinner, and a pleasant walk in the open
air, to get an appetite for his well-selected supper.
Now, all these are excellent means to restore the wealthy
man's appetite and digestive powers, even if he has gone
so far in drinking as to weaken his stomach. It is not vir-
tue and temperance that causes the less number of drunk-
ards among the rich, but the ready compensation they can
afford, to cure themselves. And it not unfrequently occurs,
that when the rich man loses his fortune, or, in other words,
when he becomes poor, he becomes, a drunkard. People
generally excuse this, saying, " it is from despair;" but^he
truth is, that now he can no longer afford the costly com-
pensation which previously preserved him from such a
fate.
But what will the poor do in such a case more especially
the workman ?
CHAPTEK IX.
THE POOR AND THE LIQUOR.
THE poor workman who has accustomed his stomach to
perform digestion only through the excitement of a pre-
vious stimulant, cannot, even if he knows the miserable
condition he is in, abandon this bad habit without almost
superhuman efforts.
Working makes him hungry; but his stomach not being
able to digest solid food, eating becomes disagreeable to
him. His relaxing strength, however, demands support.
His vital activity is suppressed; he must have afresh sup-
ply of strength to be able to work and earn his living.
To accomplish this, he knows no other means than liquor
again ! For, unfortunately, experience has taught him
that spirits not only stimulate him for the moment and in.
crease his vital activity, but that they can also be to him
a kind of substitute for food.
It was not until quite recently that science told us how
and in what manner the use of spirits may actually pro-
mote the working power of the starving. It is of the ut-
most importance to obtain a correct idea of this.
Work promotes evaporation and respiration. Evapora-
tion, however, that is perspiration proper, is nothing but a
part of the food we have taken, and which is thus secreted
from the body. Precisely the same holds good with the
breath we exhale; it consists of carbonic acid, which is
likewise tormed from the food we have taken. A man in
state of rest does not perspire and breathe so much as the
man at work; therefore he needs less food. If, on the other
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THE TOOK AND THE LIQUOR. 135
hand, a person works without taking food, the perspiration
arid carbonic acid of the breath are formed from the mus-
cles of his body; for which reason he must greatly de-
crease, both in strength and volume. We must bear in
mind, however, that it is one of the qualities of spirits to
be decomposed in the body very easily into water and car-
bonic acid; the water is then secreted in the form of per-
spiration; the carbonic acid, by exhalation. Thus, if a man
works without food, he becomes reduced immediately, be-
cause perspiration and breath are supplied from the flesh
of his body; while if he drinks liquor, perspiration and
breath are formed from the liquor itself, instead of his
body, which thus, partly at least, remains intact.
This is the solution of the great problem, viz., " How can
drunkards live a long time on nothing but spirits, and,
moreover, how can they work ? " We know it now ; liquor
furnishes them the material for perspiration and breath ;
and their body is not nearly so much taxed as would be
the case, if they were to take no spirits at all. Since, then,
the drunkard cannot eat, and even if he could, would not
be nourished, because food passes through him undigested,
he must needs continue taking spirits even if he works
but little. Spirits help him at his work, and save his body
from being consumed.
That spirits are no articles of food, has been known long;
but it was not known until recently, why spirits can be a
substitute for food, or, more correctly, a kind of saving of
food.
Unfortunately, liquor is as deplorable as a substitute as
it is fatal as a means of saving. It is only calculated to
entirely destroy the doomed man that uses it.
Now, is it not more judicious to understand the reason
why the drunkard cannot abstain from spirits, than to en-
deavor to reform him merely by " prayer " and stories about
the " devil in the alcohol ? " And is it not of the highest im-
136 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
portance to all, that the friends of humanity should take
care that the workman has good and healthy food, and that
he be always able to earn enough, so as not to be obliged
to replace bad food by liquor ?
The workman who has nothing but potatoes to eat, is
bound to become a drunkard. This food is insufficient to
afford him a proper quantity of carbonic acid for the pur-
pose of breathing; he therefore must draw for this from
his body, and, since he must needs work for his living, he
takes to spirits to save his body from being consumed.
Many an " Apostle of Temperance " would, in a similar situ-
ation, act no better. For this reason let us all provide
healthy food for the working class ; intemperance will then
greatly diminish.
Owing to the importance of the subject we have spent
much time over " Breakfast," and the chapter on " Spirits n
connected with the same; but we could not help it; nay,
we must ask our readers' pardon for continuing the sub-
ject. We propose to touch upon the sad consequences of
intemperance, and desire to give the wives of the work-
men a hint, by which they may succeed in checking the
vice of their husbands and the misfortune of their families.
CHAPTEK X.
THE CONSEQUENCES OF INTEMPERANCE AND ITS PRE-
VENTION.
THE digestion of the drunkard, as we have seen, is
greatly impaired ; the process of nutrition entirely changed.
There is a change in the tissues of the interior of the body.
The inner organs are encumbered by fat ; even under
the very skin, layers of fat are formed. It is this that gives
the drunkard that bloated appearance, which is very char-
acteristic, and an evidence of the fact that the evil has
reached a high stage. The stomach and the heart, the lat-
ter now much enlarged, are in an unnatural manner envel-
oped by fat. The action of the heart, at times immod-
erately increased, at times fearfully lessened, causes the
blood to rush impetuously even to the finest blood-vessels
of the skin, and to widen them considerably. Hence the
reddened face of the drunkard. The chest being overbur-
dened with fat, the lungs are unable to expand properly,
and cannot therefore feed the blood with a sufficient quan-
tity of oxygen, which would make the blood red; therefore
we notice that the drunkard's blood is of a bluish color;
his nose is blue, his lips, and often his whole face, have a
bluish hue. His mind is always clouded, the activity of
his nerves partly increased, partly weakened; his hands
begin to tremble, and become unsteady; soon his very feet
refuse to serve. His breath is in the beginning saturated
with alcohol, so that it can be smelled; in a little while
perspiration, nay the whole body, is imbued with alcohol,
and cases have been known in which the body, on coming
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138 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
in contact with fire, began to burn, as a wick dipped in
alcohol, inflicting a terrible death upon the unfortunate
victim. Many die from apoplexy or paralysis of the brain,
in most cases preceded by delirium tremens. When it is
considered that all this has its beginning only in this, that
the unhappy man has accustomed himself to promote di-
gestion by means of spirits — when this is well considered,
no one will find it strange that we wish to discourage from
the use of liquor everybody, especially, however, those
among the laboring classes who work with fire. He who
takes proper care of himself will always know how much
of spirits he can take and when he must use it; then, and
only then, the enjoyment of the article in question cannot
be considered a crime.
It is difficult to present to our readers a general rule for
temperance, yet we may here state a principle, the earnest
observance of which we heartily recommend.
There are many people who say : " I can stand a little
liquor very well." They mean by this that a little liquor
does not intoxicate them. But this is a dangerous stand-
ard to take. Not the possibility of intoxication, but the
welfare of one's stomach should be consulted. As long as
breakfast can be digested without the use of spirits there
is no danger, even if after having eaten fat, bacon, etc., a
desire for liquor should be felt; but when a person must
needs take spirits after his breakfast in order to be able to
digest it, then the danger becomes imminent, and it is high
time to consult a physician about this seemingly insignifi-
cant circumstance; it is best to tell him frankly the object
of the visit, viz., the desire to avoid the cheap remedy, the
liquor. If the physician be the right man he will gladly
spend advice and help.
In such cases, however, the housewife can do even more
than the doctor.
The attentive housewife will notice the bad condition
THE CONSEQUENCES OF INTEMPERANCE, ETC. 139
of her husband's stomach, and if she is judicious and
wishes to be the benefactress of her household, she can, by
a small sacrifice, easily prevent great misfortune. Above
all, she must bear in mind that only a well-fed husband can
support her and her children. It is a shame that we often
see a housewife treat her husband in this respect worse
than a horse. The owner of a horse knows that his horse
cannot render him good service unless he feeds the animal
well; why should woman not comprehend that man, her
husband and provider, must be properly cared for ? Let
every good wife bear in mind, that if her husband takes to
drinking, it is mostly owing to her own bad and careless
management of her kitchen ; let her hasten to remedy the
evil. Although it may cost her a sacrifice, yet she owes it
to herself and her family to provide her husband with a
cup of broth, well seasoned with salt and pepper, when his
stomach is weakened. At times she may surprise him with
a favorite dish for breakfast, which he will eat with a
relish. And let her be especially careful not to cause him
grief or anger at his return home, but let her rather pre-
pare for him a good savory dinner, for which he then will
save all his appetite.
Such and similar insignificant acts of womanly kind-
ness preserve often husband, wife, and children from dis-
grace; while the dutiful wife earns the esteem and grati-
tude of her family and of her country. This is a merit
which in course of time will be duly rewarded.
CHAPTEE XI .
DINNER.
WE wish to speak now of dinner, the principal meal of
the day. Here, too, we shall take for standard neither the
unhappy poor, who must eat what little he can obtain ; nor
the opulent rich, who finds a pleasure in eating what others
cannot obtain. We shall take for base the plain household
of the citizen, who takes healthy meals in order to strengthen
him for renewed activity.
What may have been the reason for putting the princi-
pal meal in the middle of the day ?
It was done for the reason that eating, too, is a labor; a
labor which requires rest. Now bodily fatigue and appe-
tite constantly keep pace with each other; they manifest
themselves in the body in intervals of three or four hours.
Since, then, we must rest at noon from the fatigue of the
morning's labor, it is best for us to use this time of rest
for our dinner; all the more so as the labor of eating ought
not to be performed during manual labor. And because
just at the middle of the day we rest from our labor and
prepare ourselves for the afternoon work, it is natural that
we should eat our principal meal at that time.
But this meal needs to be prepared carefully. The house-
wife is chained to the kitchen, because this meal is dis-
tinguished from others principally in this, that it is usually
taken warm.
The question arises in the first place, Why must food
be cooked ? Is it not more natural to take the food as na-
ture gives it to us? Why does man eat nothing raw
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DINNER. HI
except fruit? Why does he take such pains to grind,
bake, boil, fry, etc., while the animal can live without all
this ? Again, whence does it come, that man is so very
dainty in regard to eating and drinking, and that he uses
an infinite variety of articles of food, as does no other
creature in the world ? Are there not animals that live on
meat only, and others that live only on plants? Why,
then, does man need mixed food, that is, partly meat and
partly vegetable food ?
To all these questions there is but one answer.
Nature herself has pointed this out to man; and expe-
rience, the natural instructor of mankind, has taught man
how he can do best what nature wishes him to do.
The human stomach is so constituted that it can digest
but very little of raw food. Just as the nutritive part of
the pea is enclosed by a hull, so in every organic food the
nutritive element proper is contained in a hull, called cell-
The nutritive element of the potato, for example — the
starch — is enclosed in millions of small cells, which are
indigestible for our stomach. By means of good magni-
fying glasses, these cells, invisible to the naked eye, may
be plainly seen. If the potato were eaten raw, these cells,
together with the nutritive element in them, would leave
the body unchanged. But if the potato is boiled, fried, or
baked, the cells, by their expansion from the heat, burst,
and thus allow the starch to be free. Now, while animals
have been given a digestive apparatus strong enough to
dissolve the hardest cells — pigeons, for example, swallow
and are able to digest raw pease — man has been endowed
with intelligence which enables him to prepare his food
artificially.
Cooking, therefore, is as natural to man as the act of
chewing; for chewing, the crushing of food with the teeth,
on the part of animals that live on plants, is nothing but
the tearing asunder of cells. Animals that have no teeth,
142 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
birds for example, possess immensely strong powers of
digestion. It would be as unnatural for the ox, who has
good teeth to crush peas with, to swallow them entire as
the pigeon does, as it were unnatural for man to take pease
raw while he has the means of cooking them.
We often call art what really is nature in man; for his
mental gifts are natural to him; women, therefore, when
they perform the art of cooking, practise a natural art.
CHAPTEK XII.
NECESSITY FOB VARIETY IN FOOD.
LET no one believe that it is from mere daintiness that
man is fastidious in regard to food, and that he lives on a
great variety of victuals.
The human body is the transformed food which he has
eaten. It is quite correct that man can live on bread and
water a long time; but man's nature is so varied, his qual-
ities are of such numerous kinds; his character, his im-
pulses and passions, his wishes and desires, his thoughts
and labors, are so infinitely varined and so much exposed
to change, that man's body, the bearer of all these elements,
must also be formed from material of the most diversified
kind.
It is a common observation that animals which take uni-
form food are very much poorer in mind than those animals
that feed upon richer and more various kinds of food. Nay,
it has even been proved that the character, the whole na-
ture of an animal may be completely changed by its food.
Very properly, therefore, does the genial naturalist, Mole-
schott, begin his excellent treatise, " Our Articles of Food,"
with the following words: "Food has made the wild-cat
our house-cat;" thus showing that food may completely
change the character of an animal, and more, it may even
change the animal's body. And if civilized man is a being
of a higher order, more spiritual and more intellectual than
the savage, we can ascribe it to no other cause than the
impulse his food gives him, not to sink down to the savage,
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144 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
but, by varying his food as much as possible, to bestow
upon his body many superior qualities.
Nature herself has undeniably impressed upon man, that
she wishes him to take nourishment of different kinds.
Those animals that live upon plants, and such as feed
solely on meat, are entirely different from each other in
regard to their bodies. The teeth of the former, the
herbivorous, are broad and flat on the top, like our molar
teeth. They serve to crush vegetable fibres and to chew the
cells which contain the nutritive element; while the other
class, the carnivorous, have but pointed teeth, like our eye-
teeth, to tear their food asunder. The stomach of the
herbivorous is also different; it comprises several divisions
which have various functions. For blood is not so readily
obtained from vegetable as from animal food, which itself
contains ready-made blood. Herbivorous animals are for
the greater part ruminators, that is, their food passes from
the first division of the stomach back into the mouth, where
it is masticated a second time; this is called "ruminating."
With the carnivorous this is not the case. Finally, the in-
testines of the herbivorous are long, because there the
final change of the food into blood takes place ; a process re-
quiring more time with vegetable food than with animal.
For the same reason the intestines of the carnivorous are
short, the blood to be formed being already present there.
Considering the fact that man has sharp teeth in front,
at both sides pointed teeth, and in the rear of them molars;
that his stomach is adapted to the digestion of both vege-
table and animal food, and that his intestine is so consti-
tuted as to be able to digest and change into blood both
kinds, we can no longer entertain any doubt that nature
herself bids him to change his food constantly, and to take
in such as is of the most varied kind. If, in addition to
that, we recollect that exclusive animal food renders an
animal wild, quick, and sly, while vegetable food makes it
NECESSITY FOR VARIETY IN FOOD. 145
tame, enduring-, and slow in mind, it will not be denied that
food exercises great influence upon the nature of a being,
and it will now be readily understood that it would be a
sin, if man were to be forced to take uniform nourish-
ment.
The example of the cat is very instructive; it teaches us
that change of food has transformed her into another be-
ing, mentally as well as bodily. The wild-cat has short
intestines and is an animal of prey; the tame cat has long
intestines, and betrays her old character only now and
then by cunning and slyness. We also learn from this,
that variety of food produces variety of bodily and mental
qualities; and lastly, it may be inferred that nature, having
fitted man for this variety and given him such diver-
sity of mental capacities, wishes also that his food be well
selected and of the greatest variety.
These short remarks enable us to pass to the principal
dishes themselves; first to those constituting the principal
meal of the day, the dinner, for which very justly the
greatest variety of food is chosen.
CHAPTEK XIII.
BROTH.
SOUP, meat, and vegetables are the principal dishes of a
plain household dinner.
When examining this more closely, we find the selection
so judicious that we may well admire the tact of woman,
who discovered it long before science did.
The good tact of woman does even more yet; it selects
the dishes in such a manner that they mutually compen-
sate for their wants, that is, that each offers to the body
what is wanting in the others.
The principal dishes composing a meal are divided into
fat-producing and flesh-producing ones. All farinaceous
diet provides the body with fat; all albumen substances,
with flesh. To support the body, however/ it is also neces.
sary to give it salt, from which bones, hair, nails and teeth
may be formed.
Our domestic wives, indeed, look to all that. Long be-
fore scientific men had investigated the necessity for nutri-
ment of the kind, all-providing woman had arranged culi-
nary matters so as to be able to satisfy all the demands of
nature. But not only the proper selection of articles of
food, — the way and manner also in which they are cooked
and served, are of prime importance to a proper nutrition;
and we maintain that household fare may justly be re-
garded as a guide for scientific investigations.
A judicious housewife will first of all place meat on the
fire, to have good soup and well-cooked meat. She will
prefer beef to any other kind, because it contains but little
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BROTH. 141
fat and much albumen and animal fibre; for this reason it
makes better broth, and still preserves strength enough to
be a healthy, strength-giving dish.
Besides, meat, by cooking, becomes more nutritive, inas-
much as its digestibility is greatly facilitated. One of the
most important tasks of the cook consists in promoting
one's digestion; in other words, in saving the stomach la-
bor, FJesh in its raw state keeps its nutritive elements
shut up in cells which are gluey. By boiling it, the gela-
tine becomes soft and mixes with the water; hence it comes
that broth is glutinous, and, if allowed to cool, becomes
thick and like jelly. This substance is in part very nour-
ishing; it is often obtained from bones and cartilages, and
then sold under the name of " bouillon-tables," which, when
boiled in water, make a tolerably good soup. Thus we see
that the first object of all cooking is the dissolving of the
cellular tissues. Not before this is done do we obtain the
real nutritive element of the flesh, which then is taken up
by the stomach all the easier, inasmuch as it has thus been
well prepared to be easily changed into blood.
But before the meat reaches the boiling-point, albumen
is separated from its surface and mixes with the water; it
is this which gives broth its real strength and nutritive
power. Afterwards, when the water boils, this albumen
condenses; the broth becomes white, as if containing the
white of eggs; from the inside of the meat flows continu-
ally more and more albumen into the broth, and makes it
stronger and stronger. During this time, moreover, the
fat parts of the meat melt, and its salts are also dissolved
in the broth; hence a great deal of the most nutritive parts
of the meat goes over into the broth; and although much
of the strength of the meat has been withdrawn, still there
is much of it left yet, and the meat has now become easier
to masticate and easier to be digested. We need not add
that a sufficient quantity of salt is thrown into the soup,
148 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
which quickly dissolves in the water; but in the same de-
gree that the meat excretes a part of its ingredients and
gives them to the water, in the same measure does the
meat absorb salt. By this it becomes not only more taste-
ful and digestible, but also more nutritive. It was not un-
til recently that the importance of salt as a nutritive was
recognized; this cannot be otherwise, for the tissues of the
human body, as well as its blood and cartilages, need salt
for their formation and support. Who does not know that
every farmer gives his cattle salt from time to time, so as
to improve their strength and general health ?
Our readers will readily understand now, that the weaker
the broth the stronger must be the meat, and vice versa.
It often occurs that we care less to have good broth than
good beef. In such cases we must not put the meat into
cold water, but into boiling water. So soon as the meat
is thrown into boiling water, the albumen on the out-
side coagulates, surrounding the whole piece as it were
with a hard crust, which does not permit the nutritive
parts of the inside to escape. The same effect is pro-
duced by the roasting of the meat in an oven, although
here it is not covered by water. It is more judicious,
however, and more important for the household, to make
good broth, and to let dinner commence with it.
For he who has been at work all the forenoon, needs such
food at first as will not cause his stomach too much labor;
and soup is that food. Let every good housewife bear this
in mind. i
CHAPTEE XIV.
WHAT IS BEST TO BE PUT INTO SOUP?
THE answer to this question will be " Something farina-
ceous," and, indeed, no better answer could be given.
Broth contains gluten and albumen, both of which are
changed in the body into flesh. Not only the animal part of
our body, but chiefly the active, working part of it requires
nutriment that can be transformed partly into fat. Breath
and perspiration, so unavoidable in labor, are supported by
means of fat in our body. This explains why fat people
perspire more than others; why fat people get out of breath
sooner than lean persons; why the other sex, who are more
apt to become fat than men, perspire more; and why chil-
dren, because they run about much, and hence need more
breath and perspiration, usually prefer bread to meat.
As has been said, broth, which contains only such ingre-
dients as are intended to produce muscle-fibres, may well
be mixed with something farinaceous, which should be
thrown in and boiled with the soup, in order to promote
the formation of fat in the body. It matters little what
may be chosen for the purpose — flour, groats, barley, rice,
or potato, or any other article; provided always it contains
starch; for this becomes saccharine even when boiling; it
changes in the body into acid of milk, and lastly into fat.
Perhaps it is advisable to use that which contains most
starch. Rice, for example, has much of it; probably this
accounts for the fact that lively children are very fond of
it. A hundred pounds of rice include eighty -five of starch;
while a hundred pounds of wheat contain but about seventy-
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150 OUR ARTICLES OF POOD.
four pounds. A judicious housekeeper will know very well
that a less quantity is taken of rice than of flour. The
various kinds of farina and barley possess but about one-
half the starch of rice; and potatoes are so poor in that,
that five pounds of potatoes yield no more starch than one
pound of rice. All this is a matter of great importance to
our housewives.
The usefulness of soup-material lies, however, not always
in its great nutritive capacity, but very often in the facil-
ity with which it may be cooked. Thus we cannot boil
rice in the broth itself; it must, to loosen its cells properly,
be boiled first in water; this takes a little over half an
hour, and requires of course a place on the fire, and hence
more fuel. The cell of the farina or pearl-barley, on the
other hand, was crushed already by the grinding; there-
fore it needs but little attention, and may be boiled in the
broth itself without any loss of time. When making scien-
tific observations on food, such circumstances must not be
overlooked; for time and fuel cost money, and may, in the
eyes of practical housewives, raise the price of the article
too much; while to a scientific man the same article may
appear very cheap.
There are other viands which, though not very nutritive,
are yet very popular and in common use. As an example
of this class, we may give the potato.
That the latter is poor in starch, was stated above. Its
extensive use is surprising, when we consider, that, accord-
ing to calculation, the little nutriment obtained from the
potato is paid more highly for than that of flour. And yet
there is good reason for the extensive use of the article.
Its preparation, in the first place, is an easy one, especially
when the potato is boiled whole, without being peeled.
This is a great convenience for the housewife, who, besides
the time devoted to the house, needs time for work from
the proceeds of which she may support herself. She values,
WHAT IS BEST TO BE PUT INTO SOUK 151
therefore, any dish which can be prepared with little ex-
pense of time and money; more than any other article may
the potato be said to possess this quality. From it a meal
can be prepared in half an hour, and the cook need not
watch it constantly; potatoes do not boil over. Besides
all this, there is another advantage, and it is this which
makes it a favorite even with the rich; already, when boil-
ing, its starch is transformed into sugar, giving the potato
a more pleasant flavor than any other cheap dish can be
said to have. How easily the potato starch is converted
into sugar may be noticed best in half-frozen potatoes,
because there the cells containing the starch burst during
the process of freezing.
CHAPTEE XV.
LEGUMINOUS VEGETABLES.
THE greens which we put in soup cannot be considered
nutriment, but rather a kind of spice, and perhaps also as
a means of giving us the benefit of borne medicinal quali-
ties which they in part contain. We will dwell no longer
on this subject, but proceed to the most nutritive articles
of food we use, viz., the leguminous vegetables.
Pease, beans, and lentils are so extremely rich in fat and
muscle-forming elements, that in this regard they excel
bread and are almost on a level with meat. No wonder,
therefore, that they are very favorite articles if well cooked,
when we consider the fact that they are so very cheap.
Where people are too poor to buy meat every day, legumes
must not be found wanting. They play a great part in
barracks and prisons; and in order to keep pace with the
immense progress gastronomical science has made, one of
the above-named articles ought to be used in those estab-
lishments on all days on which there is no meat.
The element common to all three is called legumine. It
is richer in starch than brea d and contains nearly three
times more of it than the potato. Partly legumes contain
also ready-made sugar; this maybe tasted in green pease.
Besides this, their flesh-forming parts are in greater quan-
tity than those of other plants, while their quantity of
water is less, and it is therefore not advisable to take them
dry. New pease and beans have, moreover, the advantage
of being eatable together with their hulls and pods, as
these, when yet green, contain likewise sugar and starch.
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LEGUMINOUS VEGETABLES. 153
But we must recommend, above all, not to eat the hulls
of dried legumes. This may be avoided if, when boiled,
the cook crushes them and strains them through a coarse
sieve, by which process the hulls are left. If this is not
done, we run the danger of disturbing the functions of the
body, inasmuch as these dry hulls are dissolved neither by
the saliva of the mouth nor the gastric juice of the
stomach.
Most every one that once in his life had culinary labor
to perform, is acquainted with th fact that the cooking of
legumes is often accompanied by a peculiar circumstance.
Pease sometimes may boil by the hour without getting soft;
it happens even that young pease, soft by nature, become
harder and harder by boiling; while, at other times, the
same pease have become soft and burst open after but half
an hour's cooking. The reason of this lies not in the pease,
but in the water they are boiled in. Our housewives un-
doubtedly know, from the experience of their wash-days,
that there is hard water and soft. Soap, when put in hard
water, breaks into small pieces, while it dissolves in soft
water completely and forms a slimy liquid. Science has
solved this mystery: spring-water contains lime, which
combines chemically with the fat in soap and forms with
it an insoluble element; while rain-water contains little or
no lime, and therefore dissolves soap. The same is the
case in regard to the legumine. The lime in spring-water,
which settles on the bottom of vessels as sediment, com-
bines with some constituent parts of the pea and forms a
very hard, indigestible body; rain-water, however, dis-
solves legumine completely.
It must now appear evident to all, that much fuel and
nutritive element is gained by cooking pease, beans, and
lentils in soft water. To comfort those who, on the plea of
uncleanliness, are opposed to rain or cistern water, we de-
sire to state that rain-water when poured through linen or
154 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
cotton cloth is not in the least impure; especially if it be
allowed to stand quietly for a few hours and then have the
scum removed from its surface.
Pease, beans, and lentils produce in the healthy body
blood, flesh, milk, and fat. By their being strained through
a coarse sieve they lose such disagreeable qualities as, for
example, the bloating they produce in the body, which
makes them very unpopular with many.
Another great advantage in leguminous vegetables lies
in this, that they contain phosphorus, a principle needed for
the formation and preservation of the bones and brain;
therefore we may justly maintain that legumine is good
for the body and mind both.
CHAPTEE XVI.
MEAT AND VEGETABLES.
IT is an old German habit to consider meat and vegeta-
bles as belonging together.
In the common kinds of vegetables there is very little
nutriment. Nearly nine-tenths of the weight of cabbages
and other varieties consist of water. There is therefore
but little left for nutriment proper, as, for example, vegeta-
ble albumen, gluten, vegetable fat, starch, and sugar. It
is only such vegetables as turnips, etc., that contain much
sugar, for which reason they are well adapted for children
and convalescents. In fine, if nutriment alone were con-
sidered, the enjoyment of our common vegetables would be
nothing but a luxury.
In truth, however, they possess elements which make
them very beneficial to man, if he takes them together with
meat. They contain organic acids — like fruit, which for
this reason is so universally liked — and have the quality
of preserving in a state of dissolution the soluble albumen
of the meat. Thus they save much labor to the digestive
organs, and accelerate the transition of meat into chyle.
Hence the well-known fact, that after dinner, though we
can eat nothing more, yet we like to taste some good raw
'fruit, or cooked fruit of any kind. Vegetables are taken
for a similar purpose, and are therefore very healthy when
eaten with meat.
But why is it that our housewives often serve vegetables
before they do meat, and fruit after the meat ?
Very likely they themselves do not know why, as is the
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156 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
case so often; yet they act here, as in many other things,
with wise instinct. Fruit contains organic acid, which, in
a ready-made condition, is very beneficial to us; it needs
only to be taken up by the stomach. We do well, therefore,
if we take fruit after the meat, and allow digestion to go
on with it. From vegetables, however, this acid is onty
produced in th/e stomach, and during the process of diges-
tion. If taken before meat, the acid may promote the di-
gestion of the meat; while if it is taken after the meat,
the acid comes much too late to be of any benefit. This
explains the fact, that vegetables in which this acid has
been produced by fermentation — as is the case, for example,
with sour-crout — are usually taken together with meat.
Another great advantage of vegetables is, that they are
rich in mineral salts necessary for the health of the body.
There are ingredients in the various kinds of vegetables,
of which it may scarcely be believed that they can be
eaten, for they belong to the metals and metal combina-
tions; as, for example, chlorine, iron, potassium, and na-
tron; these play an important part in the body. It is,
therefore, not surprising to us that a judicious physician
will more often prescribe a good vegetable than medicine;
and one ought to be thankful to him if he sends people
more to the market than to the drug-store. There are, in-
deed, many diseases successfully cured by such organical
remedies, which only nature knows how to prepare. To
mention but one remedy, spinage, so highly beneficial to
children and young girls of very pale appearance. Their
green-sickness takes origin from a want of iron in the
blood. Though every physician is able to prescribe medi-
cine which contains iron, yet the effect of such artificial
inorganic remedies is often very doubtful; while spinage
itself contains iron, and therefore offers a better organic
remedy, and food.
Meat and vegetables are sufficient for the body. There
MEAT AND VEGETABLES. 15 1
is not need of much meat. Prom six to eight ounces a day
constitutes the quantity sufficient for a man. Meat and
vegetables compensate each other's wants; the former is
poor in water, the latter rich; vegetables are wanting in
albumen, which is found abundantly in meat. This happy
circumstance is favorable to the formation of that mixture
of elements essential to the preservation of the body.
Household fare, according to what we have seen, is pre-
cisely what it ought to be, and does not, as some people
are inclined to think, result solely from the whims of the
housewives. Thus is proved again what we have said
above, viz., that the natural instinct and tact of woman
have, by long years of practice, been guided by a better
and more practical course than science itself.
There are some other important articles of food, but we
must keep them for " Supper ;" and our readers will no doubt
be very glad if we conclude this chapter, and treat in the
next one the question,
" Is it good to take a little nap after dinner ?"
CHAPTEE XVII.
THE NAP AFTER, DINNER.
AN old adage says, " After dinner thou shalt either rest
or walk a thousand steps." Habit, however, has modified
this very much ; for people nowadays neither rest nor
walk; but, if they can, they lie down and slumber. Now,
it is true that sleep does not belong to the articles of food.
We might despatch the question of the nap after dinner
here at once; yet, if it has any influence upon the diges-
tion of food, it is of enough importance to merit a few
words.
It was mentioned before, that eating and digestion are
a labor. To many it may be the most pleasant labor, to
others even the only labor of their lives; but be this as it
may, it is certainly a labor for all and every one; and it is
important that during the process quiet should be enjoyed.
He who thinks he gains by not taking enough time for
eating, or he who takes his dinner while working or moving
about, loses actually more than he even thinks of winning.
The activity without disturbs seriously the activity within.
The perspiration on the surface of the body withdraws
moisture from the inside of the body to such an extent as
to diminish even the saliva in the mouth, so necessary to
digestion. Have not all of you had the experience, that
when fatigued you feel dryness in the mouth; that you feel
as if a piece of dry bread would not pass down, but remain
in your throat ? And as with the saliva, it is with the
other digestive fluids; if there is any want of them, the
food we have taken lies in the stomach like stone.
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THE NAP AFTER DINNER. 159
It is therefore desirable to take a short rest before din-
ner, not to perform any kind of labor whatever during the
same, and, above all, not to exercise the body immediately
after dinner. Eating is an inward work, and should not
be accompanied by any labor without. As an additional
proof of what we said above, it may be stated that, as
probably many of our readers know already, even in the
hottest summer, perspiration diminishes after dinner. This
will convince all, that when the digestive apparatus is at
work, the outer organs ought to be at rest. Once more,
then: before and after dinner we need rest, and it is this
rest which renders us indisposed to labor and makes us
feel sleepy.
On the other hand, we must take but a short slumber.
Those who have accustomed themselves to sleep after
dinner, feel that half an hour's slumber is all that is
needed, and that they even feel weary if they have slept
longer.
The reason of this is, the process of digestion is properly
carried on chemically by the food, being dissolved through
the gastric juice. This digestion, however, is greatly pro-
moted by the motions of the stomach, which tosses the
food about from one side to the other, mixing it entirely,
and finally making a large ball of it, whose various ingre-
dients are, as it were, fused together. This process needs
rest on our part; during it sleep is sweet and agreeable.
But for the further digestion of food, energy is needed,
which we have not during that sleep; therefore its want
makes our prolonged sleep uneasy, or renders our diges-
tion imperfect. This latter may be felt by every one who
goes to bed with a full stomach. His sleep during the first
hour is undisturbed and pleasant, because it is favorable
to the first stage of digestion. But after that, sleep is
very uneasy; weariness and complaints about bad diges-
tion follow, and the imprudent person rises next morning
160 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
with headache, coated tongue, and indigestion in the
stomach.
From what has preceded we may conclude, that a short
nap after dinner is conducive to good health; while if taken
too long, it will produce the contrary effect. Dizziness in
the head and fetid taste in the mouth are sure signs of
one's having overslept one's self, and he who has been so im-
prudent must animate his system — not by liquor, but with
a glass of fresh water; or he must, if he feels very heavy,
wash with very cold water. For this is the moment when
digestion needs activity more than anything else; the above
symptoms are the indications, and man should consider
them as the summons of nature, who calls to him, " Thou
hast eaten and reposed; go, then, to thy labor; this is the
time ! "
Let every one obey her call, and there will be less sick-
ness.
CHAPTEE XVIII.
WATER AND BEER.
DURING the forenoon a general desire for food is felt,
while in the afternoon thirst is more common, in which
case the best and most natural beverage should always be
water.
Properly speaking, water is no article of food, if by that
term we understand only animal and vegetable matter.
Water is no organic, but a mere chemical agent. But if
man were to consume no water he would perish. There-
fore water is essentially necessary to man, although it does
not satisfy his appetite; for it serves to liquify our food in
the body, and our blood must contain a greater quantity
of water than is furnished us by food, although this itself
contains much water.
Without water there can be neither digestion nor nutri-
tion, nor formation of blood, nor secretion. Furthermore,
it is remarkable that the most active of the human organs,
the brain and muscles, contain the most water; we are
therefore obliged, although we are aware of its containing
no nutritious elements, to call it a nutritive; all the more,
since it is well known that we can be longer without food
than without water.
This element plays a great part in the body; it is used
in three ways. In the first place, the ingredients of water,
hydrogen and oxygen, combine with the food, and effect its
digestion. The starch which we eat in farinaceous and
vegetable food cannot without water be converted into
sugar. And the latter being transformed into fat, we
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162 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
should have no fat if we took no water, though it may
seem strange that water should make us fat.
And there is the second task, viz., the preservation of
all the fluids necessary to our body. This, also, is per-
formed by water; and as they are excreted their loss is
compensated for by water. We lose it constantly by
breathing, perspiring, and urinating; therefore we must
continually take it anew. Those who perspire and breathe
much, as, for example, workmen or foot-travellers, must
take it in greater quantities.
The third reason of its importance lies in this, that it
gives us much of the salts and other ingredients that are
dissolved in it, and which the human body needs for its
support. Those are wrong, therefore, who prefer cistern
or distilled water to spring-water; the former being, as it
were artificially, free from all metallic and mineral parts
which are so beneficial to our health; while spring-water
contains them in abundance, and ought, therefore, to be
taken in preference even to .the purest rain-water.
But one of the most excellent qualities of water is, that
one can scarcely ever drink too much of it. If but for a
moment in the stomach, it is absorbed there and goes im-
mediately into the blood. From this arises its rapid cool-
ing quality ; which, however, may become very dangerous
when one is heated. There is but one case in which water
is not readily absorbed by the stomach ; when it contains
salts that ma*ke it heavier than blood, for example, Glau-
ber's salt and bitter-salt It passes then into the intestinal
canal, and produces here — partly as liquid, partly by its
salts exciting the nerves of the intestines — that medicinal
effect for which it is famous. Many water-cures, especially
those applied in cases of abdominal diseases, are of simi-
lar effects.
Common water, however, which is immediately trans-
mitted to the blood, effects by this accelerated secretion of
WATER AND BEER. 163
perspiration, respiration and urine ; this constitutes the
beneficial effects of water-cures, where a glass of water
often produces better results than a bottle of medicine.
If we can control our thirst until several hours after
dinner have passed, a glass of beer will be a welcome bev-
erage to us. Beer contains nutriment ; it includes more
or less albumen, sugar, gluten, hops, and alcohol. Owing
to the variety in its fermentation and manufacture, we have
many kinds of beer, such as, for example, porter, ale, and,
above all others, the lager-beer.
Good beer — that is, beer well brewed and containing all
the ingredients this beverage generally does contain — is,
very justly, often given to nurses and mothers, because it
assimilates easily and very rapidly. It is a kind of soup ;
one may take it when a person is too heated or fatigued
to eat a regular meal. There is a kind of beer that con-
tains more hops, and is therefore very bitter ; it is very
good for the stomach. The Bavarian beer, when genuine,
contains more alcohol than the other, which gives it the
advantages of liquor without its disadvantages. It there-
fore does not satisfy one's appetite, but, on the contrary,
tends to increase it ; thus it is more adapted to be taken
at breakfast and supper. Another kind of beer, called
white-beer, contains more sugar and oxygen ; it may, for
this reason, supply the place of sugar, and Seltzer-water
and is recommended to all those who need Seidlitz pow-
ders.
In another part of this work we shall perhaps speak
more about the usefulness of beer. To-day we must pray
our readers to be satisfied with what we have said about
it ; we shall now speak about supper.
CHAPTEE XIX.
SUPPER.
No time of the day is more pleasant than the evening-
hours after the day's work is over ; there is a solemn calm
and quiet in them which charms both soul and body.
This time of ease and rest must not be disturbed on our
part by overburdening the stomach. We eat only for the
purpose of compensating for the loss experienced through
our work ; we should not eat more than is necessary to
supply the strength lost ; in other words, to give us suffi-
cient strength to continue our labor. And as the day's
work is finished, there being not much work before us, we
need not take much food.
When glancing at a sleeping person and noticing his
long breathing and increased perspiration, one may be led
to the belief that he loses much oxygen and water during
his sleep ; that therefore we must provide ourselves abun-
dantly with food before retiring to bed. This is, however,
a mistake. The breath of a sleeping person is long and
deep, but very slow ; and his perspiring does not cause
any great loss of water, but comes rather from this, that
one's body during the night is more protected by covers
and closed windows, etc., from draft which dries our evap-
oration, and therefore prevents perspiration in day-time.
During sleep we need even less of bodily strength than
through the day; for this reason we feel no hunger in the
night, and, in spite of the long fasting, no fatigue in the
morning.
From this we conclude that supper should not be a meal
(164)
SUPPER. 165
for the night, but merely for the last hours of the day. It
should be no meal prcenumerando, but postnuinerando !
It is therefore best to choose but light dishes, which, if
we wish to rest well, must be easily digested, and eaten at
least two or three hours before bed-time.
For healthy people a warm supper is unnecessary ; our
dinner is taken warm for the purpose only of keeping the
gluten and fat of the food liquid ; as this kind of food,
however, is not proper for supper, we need not take it at
all in the evening. If we do, it is but an additional bur-
den to the housewife, who surely has enough trouble and
labor in the kitchen during the day. He who is not satis-
fied with a piece of bread and butter and a glass of beer,
may eat a piece of cheese besides ; but it must be no other
kind than sour cheese — the Germans call it Schmirrkaese —
common cheese being too heavy for night because of its
containing fat. This sour cheese, whether soft or hard-
ened, is easily digested ; it even excites the stomach
like spice, especially if you eat it with caraway seeds, and
thus promotes the secretion of gastric juice. The other
kind of cheese is, for no other reason than that, often
eaten after dinner ; for, though taken by itself scarcely
digestible, if eaten in very small quantity, it increases by
its action upon the stomach, the quantity of gastric juice
there, and, therefore, promotes digestion in general.
Should we, however, for one reason or the other, insist
upon having a more substantial supper, then let us take
soft-boiled eggs. The nutritive quality of eggs is equiv-
alent to that of meat. They unite all good sides of the
meat ; nay, we may say here, that the most nourishing
part in meat is nothing but egg-white, or, as we call it,
" albumen."
We recommend soft-boiled eggs, because hard ones are
difficult to digest. They are best prepared by boiling, if
the water is allowed to boil first and the eggs put in after-
166 OUR ARTICLES OF FOOD.
wards. The reason of this is, that the boiling water hard-
ens the outer part of the egg very rapidly, forming a thick
crust, which prevents the heat of the boiling water from
penetrating farther.
It is a custom of our country to take tea in the evening.
Tea is no article of food, but it possesses the qualities of
coffee ; it warms the blood, increases the activity of the
heart, and produces a certain freshness of the mind, which
is a good remedy against ennui and sleepiness in a com-
pany or party.
And since we are speaking of ennui and sleepiness, we
think it advisable to close our present subject, " The Arti-
cles of Food for the People," and we part from our readers
with the full conviction that they will enjoy their real
" articles of food "much better than they have relished
these scientific conversations about them.
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